


A Threnody for Death

by JuxtaposedNova



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, It Chapter 2 (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Dark Character, Denial, Dominant Pennywise (IT), Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, Happy Ending, Human Pennywise (IT), Implied Sexual Content, I’ll See You Sick Fucks In There, I’m going to hell, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, Maturin Is A Fucking Mastermind, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters, Thriller, fuck it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-11-02 09:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 80,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20704436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuxtaposedNova/pseuds/JuxtaposedNova
Summary: Starving golden eyes had turned aquamarine. Orange hair had turned an ashy blond. The desperation of hunger had turned into a consuming need for answers. White and red turned into human complexion. Hunger and anger turned into fear and hope.Life itself stared at him, tears running down her cheeks. The clown was no more to him, only Robert Gray remained. He had never been able to truly access her, to influence her the same way he did with others.In that moment, as a result of cosmic meddling, It feared losing the battle, for the enemy wasn't presented to him in the shape of children anymore; it was his own reflection."What have you done?"





	1. Cut the Cord

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy.

_ “Every new beginning comes from some _  
_ other beginning’s end.” -Seneca_

* * *

The normally quiet town of Derry was buzzing with the cacophony of gossip. Women sitting in small coffee shops talked about the unprecedented arrival of construction workers to their land. Perhaps a shopping mall was in construction. The men tried to talk about it with a bit more subtlety, discussing it over a beer or simply in whispers. A shopping mall meant that small, family owned businesses would be in trouble.

An elderly woman sat on a bench, reading the newspaper. Things never changed in old town Derry, and she found the arrival of new people as an interesting change of the ever-draining normalcy and habit that clouded the streets. She simply observed the young men and women carrying different building materials. Returning her attention to her reading, she lifted her eyebrows at the headline of the main article.

> _ Sinclair International begins construction for new hotel in Derry, Maine after new heir takes control_

Under the title was a picture of a group of people in front of a building. In the centre of the picture stood a beautiful young woman, surrounded by older looking men and women. She smiled for the camera, yet it didn’t seem entirely honest. She was dressed elegantly and looked every bit the scion of a household name. The elder woman smiled, reminiscing about a time when she was equally young and beautiful. She assumed that whoever that woman was, she was the cause for all the ruckus in town.

A child ran past the elder, laughing cheerfully about something, causing her to lift her gaze from the newspaper. She closed her eyes, breathing in the autumn air. Soon, Halloween would be around the corner and she would have to prepare all kinds of sweets for the children that would surely be knocking on her door.

Perhaps she would bake a couple of pumpkin shaped sugar cookies, or maybe she could make some profiteroles, her baking skills had certainly –

“What in the bloody hell do you mean there is a delay with the machines?” The heavily accented voice of a young woman interrupted her thoughts.

Her eyes landed on the owner of the voice and her eyebrows rose with interest. She looked down at the article and smiled when she realized that the young lady in front of her was the new heir to the Sinclair empire, or so it seemed. She was very similar. 

There was a particularly exotic beauty to her. She was tall, and the suit she wore did nothing to hide the fact that she was toned. She was probably an athletic person, the elder assumed. But that wasn’t the exotic allure to her. It was the pure, unnatural white colour of her hair. Upon closer inspection, the elder managed to observe the freckles adorning her pointed nose and the thick eyebrows that protected the woman’s deep brown eyes. And, oh my, her eyelashes were so thick they could probably cause a gust of wind.

“No, you listen to me. I’ve delayed this project long enough, and if you don’t find a way to get those machines here at the end of the week…the only fucks I give will come out of your paycheck.” The young woman hissed.

The elder gasped at the foul language and stood up from the bench, wanting to get away from the woman as fast as possible. Her beauty was undeniable, but her language was unacceptable. The elderly woman decided that if that was how the owner spoke, she wouldn’t be staying at the hotel anytime soon. Satisfied with her decision, the elder returned home.

Meanwhile, the young woman was becoming increasingly angrier at the person on the other side of the phone.

She had arrived that same day, ready to oversee the construction of the hotel, and had found that the machines had yet to reach their destination. It put the entire project on hold until it could be resolved, and that did not sit well with her. She had promised her father to build the damn hotel. It was his dying wish for her to build a small hotel on his hometown in Derry, Maine. And she would see to it that it was done.

After her father’s death, she had taken control over the family business. Both of her parents were dead, and she had no siblings, so the entire responsibility fell upon her shoulders. She was proud of the work she had done so far, and her business was booming. She had even been featured on Forbes most powerful women. Yet…a piece of fucking machinery was standing between her and her project.

She knew it was just a matter of time, but she was impatient when it came to projects. Things needed to be done correctly and meticulously for the hotel to be perfect. There was no room for failure, not when it came to her father’s wish. He had been a great man and he deserved nothing but the best.

“Make sure it’s done. And…I’m sorry for yelling at you…yes…you too.” She said, rubbing her temples, she knew her assistant didn’t deserve the words she had spoken. She hung up the call and looked around her.

The town was not what she expected. It was something straight out of a postcard, specially with the different coloured trees. Nature had truly outdone herself with the season. She had read about Derry, and assumed it was a shithole, only to be delightfully proven wrong. Of course, it didn’t take away the chilling information about disappearances she had found, but that was none of her business. _Good thing I’m not a kid anymore._ She mused, looking at the people who walked on the streets.

She sat down on a bench, bereft of something to keep her occupied. To be quite honest, it was the first time in months she had some time to herself. She patted down a wrinkle in her suit and stared at her surroundings. There was a certain charm to small towns, the sense of unity. She was born and bred in the city, so she was out of her element. It didn’t seem like Derry had spas or gyms either. She glimpsed at the watch on her wrist and sighed. It wasn’t late enough to head to her newly bought flat.

Her assistant had offered to make reservations at the local hotel, claiming that it would be easier for her, since she didn’t have to take care of chores. Ironically, she didn’t like hotels that much. She knew she would be staying in Derry for quite some time, so she bought one of the few luxurious apartments in town and had her possessions moved there until further notice. And that also meant, finding ways to entertain herself in that little town. It was about to become her home, she needed to get acquainted with it regardless of whether she wanted to or not.

And that’s how she ended up at the carnival, getting strange looks from the locals because of they way she was dressed. She had considered stopping by her flat to change her clothes, but that would’ve been a waste of time, in her opinion.

Of course, the carnival was overwhelming. The different food stands and the delicious aroma of the products filled her senses, forcing her stomach to complain. She had eaten a fruit salad for breakfast, it was due time for her to eat something. She approached the popcorn stand, telling herself that it would be a satisfying snack until she got home and cooked something to eat.

“Can I get a bag of popcorn, please?” She asked, pulling a hundred-dollar bill from her wallet. The man who tended to the stand smiled at her apologetically.

  
“I’m so sorry, do you have change by any chance?” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Her face fell, and she shook her head. Walking away from the stand, she crossed her arms, thinking of ways to make some change.

_Where can I possibly get change? Maybe at one of the games…or that._ She thought, as her gaze landed on the funhouse.

She had never entered a funhouse, mainly because her parents didn’t really take her to carnivals or festivals when she was a child. Curiosity got the better of her as she paid the entrance and stepped into the tunnel of the building.

Moving clowns greeted her, swinging from side to side, leaving a trail of neon light after them. She smiled, entertained by the idea of being hit by one of them and falling flat on her arse. Before walking any further, she took off her heels, giving some sort of relief to her already aching feet.

Dodging the clowns easily, she came face to face with the hall of mirrors. A chill travelled down her spine, signalling something was off about it, but she ignored it. Staring at herself in the mirror, she realized her hair was a mess. She pulled her long white locks into a bun and gave an approving nod at her reflection. With her heels in hand, she set out to find a way out of the mirror labyrinth. She could hear the kids who had entered before her laughing in the background, so she tried to the sound of them as a guide to the exit.  
Until the lights went out.

“Ah, for fuck’s sake! If I fall and break something, I’m suing.” She jokingly said to herself, feeling around with her free hand for the wall.

Her hand landed on something soft, and she ran her fingers through it, trying to figure out what it was. It was soft, like silk. She kept feeling, trying to decipher what it was that she was touching. It felt like a body, but she was certain there was no one with her when she entered the funhouse. Suddenly, the lights came back on and she found herself face to face with the tallest clown she had ever seen in her life.

He had orange hair, similar to Cheetos. His makeup was unique, with red lines that travelled from his eyebrows to his mouth. The silk costume was grey, as if it had been dirtied with the stain of time. His eyes, though, were a shade of blue she had never seen. They were lovely, if it weren’t for the confused expression in the clown’s face. He seemed to be struggling with something, completely silent as he stared at her.

“Bloody hell, mate, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frisk you like that; I couldn’t see a thing.” She apologized, instantly withdrawing her hand and missing the heat from his body.

  
He stayed silent, simply studying her with a frown on his forehead. The clown seemed to be debating with himself, although she couldn’t figure out why. She extended her hand towards him, offering a handshake.

“My name is Eudaimonia, and it seems I’m lost. Could you help me find my way out, by any chance?” She asked, waiting for him to shake her hand.

The clown tentatively shook her hand, letting his fingers linger on her skin for longer than necessary. His hold tightened slightly, and he smiled at her, revealing adorable buck teeth. He pulled her towards his chest and wrapped his hands around her waist.

“I am Pennywise, the dancing clown! Would you like to float with me?” He asked cheerfully between giggles, pulling out a red balloon seemingly out of nowhere.  
Surprised by his actions, she simply stared at him in confusion. Was he a part of the funhouse? She slowly disentangled herself from his grip and took a step back. Well, it seemed he wasn’t going to help her find her way out.

They had certainly added the element of surprise to the funhouse. Anyone who was afraid of clowns would’ve been scared shitless.

“As lovely as it sounds, I have had a long day and I want to go home. But it was a pleasure meeting you, Pennywise.” Eudaimonia smiled, kissing his cheek and leaving him behind as she found the exit door. She put her heels back on and chuckled at the absurdity of the entire situation. Now that she had change, she could go and buy herself some popcorn to eat on the way home.

_What a strange clown._ She thought, chewing.

It was of no surprise, of course, when she didn’t notice the fact that a mask of anger had covered the clown’s features, threatening with a promise of something to come.


	2. I'll Keep Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of the song is Be Still by The Killers.  
Enjoy.

_“Each time dawn appears, the  
mystery is there in its entirety.” – Rene Daumal_

* * *

She had been drinking a glass of wine to accompany her grilled cheese when the pain hit her with a force so strong it had knocked her to the floor, rendering her completely weak. Eudaimonia was reduced to a weeping mess, clutching her head in an attempt to lessen the pain that overwhelmed her.

Wine decorated the floor in which she laid, crying and trying to calm herself down in order to find her phone and call an ambulance. She couldn’t breathe, she had never had panic attacks, she went to therapy monthly to make sure her mental health was in top shape. But it didn’t feel like a panic attack, it felt as if her head was being split into two from the inside and something was trying to crawl out. She slowly lifted her hands to her face, trying to look for any signs of blood and finding nothing.

Eudaimonia cried out as a particularly strong jolt of pain hit her and numbed all her senses. She couldn’t see nor feel anymore, couldn’t smell the strong scent of wine on her wooden floor, she couldn’t even taste her own mouth. Little by little, she started hearing something. It sounded like the soft patter of rain against a window. Focusing on the sound, she discovered that it wasn’t the only thing she could hear. In the background, there was also a song playing. She tried to recognize the melody, trying to identify why it sounded so familiar.

_…and life is short_  
_To say the least_  
_ We're in the belly of the beast_

_Be still_  
_Wild and young_  
_ Long may your innocence reign…_

She recognized the song and the sense of familiarity calmed her. She tried to open her eyes, only to be met with absolute blue. The colour faded and morphed into an image of herself laughing by a window, a blanket around her and a cup of something on her hands. She was staring at someone, but she couldn’t really make out who it was.

Once again, the image changed. It was the silhouette of a man covered in leaves, sitting on the ground with something in his hands. With each second, the vision became blurrier until she couldn’t distinguish anything. The song was still playing softly in the background, but she had to put significant effort into being able to listen to it.

The first thing that she noticed when she came back to her senses was the fact that the pain was gone, as if it had never been there. The second thing she noticed was the ghost of a cold kiss on her lips. She sat up gently, looking at the mess her broken glass of wine had made on the floor and on her white locks.

“What the fuck…” She whispered to herself, standing up carefully, not wanting to fall again.

She had returned home from the carnival, taken off her suit and put on the oversized shirt of an old fling. She had never fallen for the guy, it had been pure carnal, primitive lust; but the guy had always smelled good and he had casually forgotten one of his shirts at her flat in the city a few months back.

Although the popcorn had momentarily calmed her hunger, by the time she reached her flat, she was famished. Exhausted and in need of alcohol, she had made a grilled cheese and poured herself a glass of wine to help her sleep. She had taken a few bites out of her food when the pain hit her suddenly, mercilessly. She had never felt such pain in her life. She wasn't certain whether she was going to survive it or not. 

She couldn’t explain the visions she saw, much less make any sense of them. The only thing she had been able to place was the song, and even that hadn’t been of much help in figuring out what the hell she had seen.

_Who…who was the man? I couldn’t see him. _Cleaning up the mess, she wondered. She threw the rest of her food in the trash, her appetite gone, and washed the dishes.

_What is happening to me? Am I sick? Should I check with a doctor? _Making her way to the bathroom, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She stared at her reflection on the mirror, looking for any signs of trauma. Her skin was flawless, there was nothing to indicate the pain she had just endured. She sighed, running her hand through her hair.

_Why was that song playing in the background? Why the fuck am I seeing this shit? _She got under her covers and clapped, turning the lights off.

Her mind couldn’t comprehend what had happened, the pain had come and gone suddenly, and all it left was a set of visions of something. It seemed familiar and that had thrown her off balance. As if…it was supposed to belong there. She decided to shrug it off for now, if they came back, she would go see a doctor or a psychologist. There was no point in suffering when she could find help. Her father had taught her that. Even the strongest, most powerful people in the world need a hand sometimes.

_It’s okay to ask for help, Eudaimonia. It’s okay…_ Repeating those words over and over, she fell asleep.

* * *

Unbeknownst to her, someone was watching her. It was on her roof, one with the shadows that covered her room. It had seen it all, from the cooking to her cries of pain. Her fear, her pain, he had been able to feel it, to taste it.

Oh, how it had enjoyed it. Pennywise, the dancing clown, was staring down at her.

Remembering how he was woken up by a sudden burst of blinding light on his cave, he smiled wickedly. He had risen ahead of time. There was still a year left of his long rest, but something had interrupted it, bringing forward the destruction he would cause. Unsurprisingly, he had woken up with a sickening hunger. He had fed, but nothing had been able to satiate him. As the hours passed, he became increasingly angrier at the thought of not knowing what had caused his sudden awakening. It had never happened; nothing could reach him in his haven. Nothing could happen to him there, and yet, something had been strong enough to jolt him awake. He had looked for the source of light but had found nothing. It didn’t go unnoticed, but he needed to feed first. He felt as if he would die if he didn't satisfy his hunger. 

He had seen her at the carnival, laid eyes upon her as he looked for a fresh meal. Something had pulled him to her, to the disgustingly saccharine aroma of cinnamon on her skin. She had been an easy prey, careless and distracted. When she entered the funhouse, he saw his chance to get her.

He had followed her, lingering in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and fill her with enough fear to give her flesh some seasoning. As soon as she had entered the hall of mirrors, he knew what he had to do. The lights went out at his will and he positioned himself between her and the way out. He heard her talking to herself, laughing at her poor excuse of a joke. He loved jokes, he loved mockery and mischief; but only because it brought him the sadistic pleasure of his victim's fear. He wondered if she would laugh when she saw her worst fear staring at her in the face, ready to tear her to pieces and feel her blood coated skin in the teeth of a monster.

And then, he realized, he couldn’t see inside of her mind. He couldn’t read it. There was a barrier inside of her mind pushing him out, screaming at him to get the fuck out and mind his own business. He tried again and again, getting increasingly frustrated with each failed attempt. How dare she push him out of her mind? He would tear her to pieces, he would kill her. 

Her fingers found his body and he tensed, a silent snarl forming in his red lips. He couldn’t read the pathetic little thing. She wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, she was a weak, primitive human. She was touching him with child-like curiosity, trying to figure out where she was, he assumed.

He willed the lights to return and stared at her. She was exotic, that much he would give her. Her taste would be unique, if only he could read her. He had half a mind to just sink his teeth into her right then and there and be done with the confusing, pesky woman. But then she spoke, her voice pleasantly velvety, and heavily accented.

He hated her at that moment, hated the fact that he couldn’t access her mind like he normally could with other humans. He tried with another human not too far away, finding it worked. A young girl, merely a toddler, who was afraid of spiders. She would have to do if he couldn't feed on the woman. 

He decided that if he couldn’t scare her with that kind of fear, he would try a different tactic. He had offered to have her float with him, and that normally did the trick. But even that, failed. As soon as he touched her, a sudden warmth enveloped him. It was unnatural, oddly familiar. He couldn’t place it, the feeling of familiarity. He wanted to rip her apart, sink his teeth into her neck and watch her bleed. He wanted to rip her limbs apart, cut her in half and eat her whole. But…there was something about her. The energy that surrounded her was different, almost like…a memory.

And so, she had left him alone, freeing herself from him by the grace of interest. She was something different, and it had been quite a while since he had had the opportunity to play a game like that one. He’d find out why he couldn’t read her mind, but once he did, he’d make sure to torture her for days on end, until her pathetic little body couldn’t take anymore. He’d savour her fear and pain, he’d make sure of it.

To say he was angry was understatement. He was fuming as he watched her sleep. Oh, how easy it would be to just open his jaws and devour her whole as she slept. The meat would be tasteless, but it would ease his anger. Or so he thought.

Pennywise kneeled next to her bed, watching her sleep. What was it about her that shielded her from him? Sleeping, her energy was softer, but still there. He could feel it, moving along her body, teasing him. Mocking him for not winning against her.

He growled, his teeth increasing in number as he leaned in to smell her. She stirred and he smiled, maybe scaring her like this would suffice. But she didn’t wake, she simply turned on her side to face him. He found himself staring at her, into the soft curve of her lips and the defined collarbone adorned by a piece of jewellery. The aroma of cinnamon filled his senses and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

He lifted his hand, slowly letting a claw break the fabric of his glove, and softly ran it against her collarbone. His hunger increased as he watched the blood slowly pour from her skin and into the white cotton of her shirt. And then, the smell of the shirt hit him.

It was not her; he could tell. It was external, alien to the saccharine aroma that covered her. This made him angrier for reasons unknown. He wanted to kill whoever had covered her with that filthy smell, tainting the sweetness of her skin. A sudden possessiveness overcame him, and he convinced himself it was because he didn’t want his food contaminated. He wanted it pure and layered with fear.

The sight and heat of her blood was driving him insane; he knew that if he didn’t find a food source fast, he would eat her, regardless of whether she was afraid of him or not.

And as much as he would’ve liked to feast on her, he didn’t want to just yet. He wanted to find out what she was first, why he couldn’t see her mind. It was all so new to him, and he figured a little game to keep him entertained would be enough.

Pennywise left, eager to play a game with his new toy.


	3. A Little Piece

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Today I choose life. Every morning when I wake up_  
_ I can choose joy, happiness, negativity, pain…to feel the freedom_  
_ that comes from being able to continue to make_  
_ mistakes and choices – today I choose to feel_  
_ life, not to deny my humanity but embrace it.” –  
Kevyn Aucoin_

* * *

The rays of the sun softly illuminated the room with an ethereal glow, the almost translucent curtains that covered the window did little to shield the area from the light and morning wind. Eudaimonia woke up, slowly opening her eyes and yawning as she stretched. She reacted with disgust at the smell of her own morning breath and sat up, taking a good look at her surroundings.

Her eyes widened at the sight that greeted her. Her room was a complete fucking mess. Her clothes, both clean and dirty, were scattered along the floor. The drawers of her dresser and the sliding doors that led to the balcony were wide open, letting the cold autumn air blow in. Thankfully the makeup on her vanity was intact…except for the vanity itself. The mirror was broken. She reached for her phone, dialling the local police. Her best guess was the someone had broken in during the night, probably searching for something to steal and sell. Her breathing was coming in short breaths, fear threatening to grab her in its clutches. She knew she had to calm down, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to get help.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The operator asked. Eudaimonia thought for a moment, thinking about how to articulate the absolute clusterfuck that was her room.

“Good morning, I…uh…I think someone broke into my apartment. I just woke up and my room is a mess, there’s broken things everywhere.” She tried to explain.

“Do you live alone, miss?”

“Yes, I just moved here.” She responded, standing up from her bed and inspecting the mess.

“Can you hear any sounds coming from another part of your home?”

Eudaimonia paused, listening intently for any sounds that could indicate danger within her walls. But the only things she could hear were her breathing and the sound of birds chirping outside. She sighed, making her way to the bathroom.

“No, I’m safe. I just need you to come and check.” She looked at herself in the mirror, letting out a soft gasp when she noticed the wound on her collarbone. The blood had dried up on her skin and dirtied her shirt.

“Very well, we will be dispatching a small unit to your address. Could you please provide your exact location to us?” The operator requested.

Eudaimonia gave the operator her address and hung up. She would have to get ready before the police got there. She brushed her teeth and combed her hair, frowning at the dry blood on her neck. She stripped from her shirt and underwear and got in the shower.

The hot water sliding down her back did wonders to calm her nerves. She scrubbed every inch of her body, making sure every part of her was clean shaven. When she finally reached her collarbone, she hesitated, not wanting to open the wound. She didn’t remember getting hurt, it must’ve happened when she dropped her wine glass and fallen. She let the water clean away the blood and proceeded to wash her hair. The water turned her normally snow-white hair into a silver grey.

The images of her destroyed bedroom flashed in her mind, raising questions she didn’t have the answers to. Nothing had been out of the ordinary when she had gone to bed, except for her collapse with visions. Her doors and windows had been locked, and the building she now lived in was in one of the safest and most expensive areas of Derry. Above it all, it bothered her that she had been asleep through it all. How had she not noticed someone in her room? She could’ve had her throat slit and she wouldn’t have had the chance to defend herself.

After drying herself with a towel and changing into a white dress shirt and jeans, she waited for the police to arrive. They checked her entire apartment, and nothing had been stolen. Nothing, except for her room, had been out of place. They had asked her a few questions, yet she only managed to answer a few of them, for that had been all the information she possessed.

“I’m sorry, miss…uh…” The policeman trailed off, probably trying to think how to pronounce her last name as he read his notepad. 

“Agathynge.” She said, helping him out of his misery.

“Yes. We’ve searched every inch of your apartment and we have some men outside doing some patrol, but it seems that nothing was stolen, and you weren’t hurt.” He informed.

Eudaimonia frowned, her hands balling into fists. Just as she was about to open her mouth to let the man know what she thought, he spoke again.

“Our best guess is that it has something to do with the hotel. Some folks around here are resistant to change, perhaps it is their doing. Getting the people of Derry on your side is probably in your best interest, miss.”

“You’re telling me someone destroyed my room, while I slept, because they don’t want me to build the hotel?” She asked, incredulous.

“It’s our best guess. Whoever did this didn’t hurt you and they didn’t take anything from your apartment. It could be a message. Talk to the mayor, she is in a better position to help you. We’ll have someone patrolling the area tonight, to make sure you’re safe, but I’m afraid it’s all we can do.” He concluded, his hand resting on his gun.

Frustrated, she ran her hands through her face, letting out a groan. She thanked the police and escorted them out of her home. They hadn’t been entirely useless, giving her a piece of information, she could use, but they didn’t help in making her feel safe. She made a mental note to buy a baseball bat to keep next to her bed in case someone decided to break in again. She wasn’t defenceless, she knew how to fight. Her parents had insisted on her taking _krav maga_ classes when she was a teenager, because they knew she wouldn’t always be guarded. But that didn’t mean she could win a fight against someone who - in the worst-case scenario - was bigger and stronger than her.

She ate her breakfast in silence, checking her emails and social media. The press praised her for fulfilling her father’s last wish, and claimed they were looking forward to staying in the new hotel. The mayor had let her build the hotel because she knew how beneficial it would be for the town. If a major hotel chain was building in Derry, there had to be something interesting there. Her presence meant more tourists, more income for the town and its inhabitants. She knew that, at the end of the day, she was a means to an end. Dollar signs, nothing more, nothing less.

On account of that useful information and knowledge, Eudaimonia knew the mayor would comply to her every demand. Halloween was coming, it gave her a window of opportunity to host an event in town and invite everyone. People loved entertainment and she’d make sure to provide it abundantly. It would take more than that to get the people on her side, but it was a good enough start.

She put on a pair of nude heels and tied her hair into a ponytail, checking her natural makeup one last time before exiting her home. She figured she would clean up the mess once she got home or she would hire someone to do it for her…if there was such a service in town.

As she walked through the streets of Derry, she allowed herself to enjoy the view. The town was old, the buildings provided enough evidence for it. The lands themselves were burdened with history, and not all of it was good. She arrived at the mayor’s office, knocking softly on the door. A raspy voice answered from the other side.

“Come in.”

Eudaimonia entered, coming face to face with the woman who ran the town. Despite her flawless and rigid appearance, the mayor had a gentle smile on her face. She signalled Eudaimonia to sit down.

“What can I do for you?” She asked, putting away what oddly resembled missing people posters. The mayor had bags under her eyes, clearly indicating that something was burdening her.

“My flat was broken into yesterday; my bedroom was destroyed. I’m certain the police have already reported this to you.” Eudaimonia began.

The mayor’s face fell a little, nodding in understanding.

“I’m so sorry. I could work something out with the police, have them constantly stand guard outside of where you live – “

“That won’t be necessary. If it was done by someone who is displeased with the construction of my hotel, I need to find a way to change that. I know not everyone is on board with change, you just need to look at today’s society. Halloween is just around the corner. Allow me to host a festival in town to get on the people’s good side.”

The mayor’s face lit up and she agreed enthusiastically, grabbing a white sheet of paper and writing down something.

“Very well, let me know what you need.”

“I’ll pay for most of it, but there’s a few things you can do for me.” Eudaimonia said, smiling triumphantly.

She left the mayor’s office around noon, satisfied with the outcome. A small festival would barely touch the magnus amount of money she had, so she had no quarrel with spending on it. It was the perfect plan. A treasure hunt would be held across every part of town, in order to gather the curiosity of adults and children. The festival would be in the main park, where food stands, competitions and shows would be presented to the people. She would give the welcome speech and perform a little something, afterwards there would be live music and various art presentations.

Overcome with hunger, she wandered around town, looking for a restaurant. She was answering a couple of emails as she walked, and she didn’t notice the man running straight for her. She felt the pain and let out a small _oof; _suddenly, she was on the floor with a heavy weight on top of her. She opened her eyes to find a man standing up, apologizing profusely and offering his hand so she could stand up. She took it gracefully and she was soon standing again.

“I’m so sorry, I’m in a rush.” He said, picking up the books from the floor.

Eudaimonia kneeled on the floor, helping him gather the books. Upon closer inspection, the man seemed older than her, perhaps by 15 years or so.

“Ah, it’s quite alright. I wasn’t looking.” She answered. The man perked up as soon as he heard her voice. He offered her a genuine smile.

“You’re not from around here, are you? That accent of yours is not American.” He inquired, standing up.

“I’m British, but I’m certain the accent gives it away. I just moved here because of work.” She answered, offering her hand for him to shake. “Eudaimonia Agathynge.”

The man shook her hand, struggling to balance the books he carried on his arm.

“Well, welcome to Derry, miss Agathynge. My name is Mike Hanlon, I’m the librarian.” He offered, grinning at her.

“You’re in luck, then, Mr. Hanlon, I love to read.” She joked, offering a warm smile of her own.

Lurking in the shadows, Pennywise watched the interaction with interest. It seemed one of the pathetic, stupid kids who had given him a run for his money had met his new toy. He had been observing her all day, and he had loved the way in which she had received his little gift. Her room had proved to be an unreliable source of information, but it was alright.

He had all the time in the world to figure the woman out. 


	4. Lost in Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck doesn't belong to me. Credit to Mark Manson.  
The name of the song is Old Money by Lana Del Rey.  
Enjoy.

_“Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice._  
It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be  
achieved.” -William Jennings Bryan

* * *

Eudaimonia, the object of his interest and crazed desire, sat at a restaurant, eating on her own. He could smell the food, even from where he stood. He was disguised as an elderly man, watching her from across the street, with a copy of _The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck_ by Mark Manson on his lap. It was contradictory, since he had been giving all the fucks when it came to her.

A couple of days had passed since his first encounter with her. He had been studying her, observing her daily routine. There was almost nothing out of the ordinary about her, except for the energy that surrounded her. Much to his irritation, she was blissfully unaware of it. Her days were spent on different technological pieces, ranging from her phone to her computer. She received many calls, answered many messages. When she wasn’t working, she was organizing the festival she had planned along with the mayor.

He didn’t care for the festivities, but he knew that Halloween meant easy prey. Children would be running around town, unsupervised and without a care in the world. A curfew had been set as soon as children started disappearing again, but it would be lifted only for that night, since every adult and child would be out on the streets.

Moreover, he was getting angrier with each passing day. If there was nothing about her behaviour that indicated as to why her mind was impenetrable, there had to be something else. He didn’t know anything about her, only what he saw and heard. Not having access to her mind meant not having access to her life. He knew she drank wine nightly, which had led to him spilling the contents of her wine bottles on her bed to scare her. But she had only sighed and cleaned it up, talking to herself about _people being so bloody hard to please_. He also knew she had a beautiful voice, and she sang to herself while doing chores. He had messed with her speaker one morning, distorting the voices into screams and cries of pain. She had let out a cry of surprise, turned it off, sighed, and sang to herself without the melody to accompany her.

But the fucking energy around her explained nothing, changed nothing about her behaviour. Her cognition was not his to see, but he would make sure that at least something of hers belonged to him.

His initial plan to observe her from afar had proven fruitless, he needed to interact with her if he wanted to find out more. The mere thought of being around her made his blood boil, his teeth sharper, his mouth overflowing with saliva at the taste he supposed her flesh had. He would have to keep his instincts in check as much as he could, he would make sure it was worth it in the end. Her flesh had to be something special to attract him so much. He couldn’t help but to imagine her blood running down his chin as he delivered bite after bite to her screaming and squirming body. He could almost imagine the way her eyes would widen with fear, the way she would beg him not to hurt her, the way she would try to put up a fight only to be subdued. He would eat those eyes of hers in the same way she ate olives. He would savour every inch of meat she provided, and he would make her scream.

The effort will be worth it, he convinced himself. And so, he found himself wondering how to approach her. He had seen her interact with children, and such interactions were always short lived. The same thing happened with elders. She interacted with adults the best. He considered shifting into a woman, to earn her trust and become a friend to gain information. But even then, a friendship didn’t allow the intimacy he was looking for. In order to gain her trust and a place in her immediate circle, he needed to become what humans so desperately craved. He would have to make her believe he would become her mate.

From what he had observed, she didn’t have one. Her calls were mostly business and a couple of friends checking in on her, despite her short answers. Her smell was mostly hers, except for that one shirt. Her conversations never took the romantic turn, so he knew it was the only way to get the intimacy he required to gain the information he wanted.

He would wait until Halloween night, the night of the festival to show himself to her. He would have to create an identity interesting enough for her. This was the first time in his long life he had to go blind into a situation. He was eternal, the eater of worlds, a being beyond comprehension.

It wouldn’t be too hard. Not for him.

* * *

Pennywise, the dancing clown, changed his identity to Robert Gray. A tall, fair skinned, athletic, attractive man. His hair was a light shade of brown and his eyes were a light mixture between green and blue. He needed to dive into his new personality, to get used to calling himself Robert instead of Pennywise. He had become so used to the identity that it was hard to part with it. He knew some personality traits would remain; they were a part of who he was.

It was Halloween and he could see children dressed in costumes running around with all the energy a sugar rush provided. He had fed before shifting into his new body since he needed to be certain he wouldn’t eat Eudaimonia. The wait would be worth it, delayed gratification would make her flesh more delicious. It was just a matter of time and a little bit of effort to keep himself entertained.

The treasure hunt had begun a couple of hours back, and it seemed that the prize had already been found. Kids would look at him with curiosity, since he wasn’t wearing a costume. He had considered it but rejected the idea once the fact that he would stand out more for her came into mind. He had a hold on Derry, both physically and psychologically. The people only saw and felt what he wanted them to. And so, the adults ignored him, only glancing at him with the same curiosity a person watches their neighbour arrive with a new car.

He had never strolled through the streets of Derry, never taken the time to truly look at the place that grew his sustenance. The sun had already set, and the closer he got to the park, the louder he could hear her voice. She was delivering a speech to the people whom she thought disliked her. If only she had known it was him all along messing with her.

“…and I thank you for providing me with the opportunity to spend time in your community. I will make sure it’s not misplaced. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, and enjoy the rest of your night.”

She finished her speech as soon as he arrived at the park. The ornaments decorating the area were breath-taking, even a monster could appreciate beauty. His eyes studied the environment surrounding him before he set his gaze on her.

She looked different from the way she always did, a lot more decorated and extravagant. From the crowd, she stood out effortlessly. Everyone looked at her with wonder in their eyes, and even if he wanted to be the exception, he couldn’t help it. She looked ravishing, like the tastiest meal he had ever laid his eyes upon. Her pure white hair shone like starlight, reminding him of a past life. The familiarity of her didn’t cease to frustrate him but it also kept his interest alive. She wore a long dress that left her shoulders bare, giving a subtle view of her cleavage. It was crimson, and it had a slit that allowed her to move freely and display those long legs of hers. The amount of skin on display made his mouth water, he desired her, he desired to eat every piece of her.

Slowly, the lights dimmed, and the spotlight focused on her. She stood in the centre of the stage, a microphone in front of her, and he could’ve sworn she truly glowed. Silence fell over the crowd, eagerly waiting for her to perform.

_Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine_   
_ Cashmere, cologne, and white sunshine_   
_ Red racing cars, Sunset and Vine_   
_ The kids were young and pretty_

Her voice was slow, sultry and sensual. Every set of eyes around were set on her, on the captivating energy of her. He took a seat on a nearby outside bar so he could have the best view possible.

_Where have you been? Where did you go?_   
_ Those summer nights seem long ago_   
_ And so is the girl you used to call_   
_ The Queen of New York City_

Her eyes landed on him, probably surprised at the fact that he was the only person who wasn’t wearing a costume. An indescribable glimmer adorned her eyes, rooting him to the spot in which he sat. She moved her hips slowly in a hypnotising fashion. It was as if she were drawing the number eight over and over. Her voice was calling to someone, almost asking for that someone to return to her. The feeling of comfort blanketed him for a moment. 

_But if you send for me, you know I'll come_   
_ And if you call for me, you know I'll run_   
_ I'll run to you, I'll run to you_   
_ I'll run, run, run_   
_ I'll come to you, I'll come to you_   
_ I'll come, come, come_

Her eyes were closed as she sang, only opening them during specific verses of the song she perfectly performed. Her hands rested on the microphone, making the ring on her finger shine with a glow that matched hers. The lyrics of the song circled his thoughts, it was some sort of love song. A lover who was willing to do anything for their missing loved one.

_The power of youth is on my mind_   
_ Sunsets, small town, I'm out of time_   
_ Will you still love me when I shine?_   
_ From words but not from beauty_   
_ My father's love was always strong_   
_ My mother's glamour lives on and on_   
_ Yet still inside, I felt alone_   
_ For reasons unknown to me_

She slowly let go of the microphone, taking it with her as she slowly descended the stairs of the stage. The people watching her performance parted from her way, bewitched by her singing and undeniable magnetic field. She walked as she sang, with an apparent destination in mind.

_But if you send for me, you know I'll come_   
_ And if you call for me, you know I'll run_   
_ I'll run to you, I'll run to you_   
_ I'll run, run, run_   
_ I'll come to you, I'll come to you_   
_ I'll come, come, come_

He tried not to breathe when she approached him, her hips seductively swaying as she placed herself between his legs and ran her free hand down his chest. It was taking everything inside of him not to lash out and bite her. Yet there was another type of desire he couldn’t quite place, a desire he didn't recognize.

_And if you call, I'll run, run, run  
If you change your mind, I'll come, come, come_

She sang those words right in his ear, and he could feel the warmth radiating off her body. It was almost burning, it was captivating. He placed his hands on her hips and controlled himself, trying to enjoy the mortal pleasure she was providing with the melody that escaped from her luscious lips. Almost as soon as she got there, she was gone. She was slowly returning to the stage once again, looking back at him with an indecipherable shine. She smiled at him, turning her attention back to the way ahead of her.

_Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine_   
_ Cashmere, cologne, and hot sunshine_   
_ Red racing cars, Sunset and Vine_   
_ And we were young and pretty_

The song ended and people cheered loudly for her. She took a bow, smiling and laughing cheerfully as she thanked the crowd. They threw flowers at her feet; it was clear they had enjoyed the show, and so had he.

When the lights came back on, part of him knew they were never dimming again.


	5. Epoch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“The important thing is not to stop questioning. _  
Curiosity has its own reason for existing.”  
-Albert Einstein

* * *

Long after her performance had ended, she stood in the middle of her own festival, watching as people happily enjoyed what had been done for them. People had complimented her speech and voice, making her blush more times than she cared to count. After her parents died, she wasn’t used to praise. Yet she enjoyed every bit of it. It was in her nature to lead, to protect and to change things for the better as she see fit.

The mayor had approached her, thanking her for indulging the people of Derry and for paying such detail to the event. Then, she had left her alone, most likely off to enjoy the festivities with her family. And so, Eudaimonia was alone in a crowd full of people. Surrounded by smiling heads and bodies that didn’t particularly mean anything to her other than a job well done.

In the back of her mind, aquamarine eyes called for her. Oh, she had seen the man even from where she had been standing as she sang. He had been the only person around not wearing a costume. His serious expression had been a contrast to the wonder filled eyes that had followed her around. He was one of the most attractive men she had ever laid eyes upon, also one of the tallest. He had seemed surprised at her sudden approach during her performance, but he had been able to conceal it well. When he placed his hands on her hips, heat pooled inside of her, a desire so primitive had overwhelmed her that she had to leave as fast as possible without giving away that she was escaping from him.

Much to her dismay, she hadn’t been able to catch sight of him again. He had disappeared, along with the sweet aroma of cotton candy and tangerine that followed him around. She wasn’t wearing a costume, knowing that it would be easier to recognize her in case people wanted to talk to her to pitch in ideas or complaints. But it hadn’t been the only reason. She was hoping to see the mysterious man again. She would stay until the event was over, it was the least she could do as the host.

She took a seat in a bar, ordering a glass of whiskey. The bartender merely raised his eyebrows at her but complied, nonetheless. She sipped the amber liquid, relishing in the way it burned down her throat.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man that had been plaguing her mind since the beginning of the night. He was sitting at the other side of the bar, looking irritated as a beautiful redhead dressed as a nurse tried to talk to him. He looked as if he had already downed his sixth martini. He wore an expensive looking suit and a frown on those gorgeous features of his. She observed them for a while, trying to determine why he seemed so annoyed with the woman who was clearly interested in him. Perhaps she wasn’t his type, perhaps he just wanted to be alone, or perhaps he played for the other team. But based on his reaction to Eudaimonia, the latter didn’t seem like the case. She could see his patience wearing thin, his hands balled into fists. His knuckles were already turning white and he was looking into space, probably trying to escape the one-sided conversation that was uninvitedly thrown into his lap.

Eudaimonia decided to rescue him, seductively swaying her hips as she approached them and placed a hand on his shoulder. He tensed and turned around slowly, his eyes not giving away anything at her sudden contact.

“I’m so sorry for making you wait, honey, I was dealing with some people who were interested in investing.” She said, glaring at the redhead.

The woman pouted, glared at her and took it as a sign to leave. Eudaimonia celebrated internally, happy that she now had the man entirely to herself. She sat down next to him, her whisky in hand.

She turned to him, inspecting his reaction. He was staring at her with an emotionless expression.

“A thank you would’ve sufficed, you know?” She said, sipping her drink. He seemed taken aback by her words, and he chuckled.

“Thank you.” He said, gulping down his martini and signalling the bartender to make him another.

His voice was surprisingly pleasant, dark but not raspy. It was smooth like silk, and she wanted to hear more of it, but she didn’t want to annoy him either. Well, she wasn’t a master at only talking. She crossed her legs, intentionally revealing her long slender leg for him to see. He noticed but looked away fast. She smirked, knowing she had him.

“You’re new here, too, huh?” She asked, looking at the bartender making his drink.

It took him a few seconds to answer, but he nodded.

“Tell me, were you not interested in spending the night with her or…?” She didn’t finish her question, hoping she got her message across.

“Not in the mood for meaningless sex, I guess.” He answered, letting out an almost imperceptible sound of relief when his martini was placed in front of him.

“I respect that.” She commented, ordering a glass of wine.

They both stayed silent for a while, expecting the other to break the silence. She decided she would wait for him to speak, and if he desired to leave, he could.

“I liked your performance. Are you a singer?” He asked, finally turning to look at her.

She chuckled, shaking her head.

“I’m afraid not. I’m a businesswoman.” She explained, smiling at him.

“It makes sense.” He said. She raised an eyebrow, not certain of what he meant by that.

“Pardon?”

“Your voice is beautiful, but you’re not exactly a dancer.” He said, smirking as he took a sip of his drink.

His comment took her by surprise, making her laugh. No one had ever had the balls to talk to her like that, and she assumed it had something with the fact that she was normally in a position of power. People just took whatever she said, and it annoyed her. She liked competition, she liked defiance because it gave her the opportunity to assert her dominance.

“Alright, mister, please do tell me, what do you do?” She countered, turning her body so she could directly face him. It also offered a better view of her body. She leaned in slightly, placing her hand near his, but never touching him.

“I’m a private investigator and a freelance writer on my free time.” He responded, toying with the toothpick that held the olive in his martini in place.

“A PI? That’s impressive. Who have you been hired to investigate?” She queried.

“Now answering that would be very unprofessional from my part, don’t you think?” He stated, smiling at her darkly. A chill ran down her spine, albeit she wasn’t quite certain whether it was from arousal or fear.

“Touché. Can I at least get your name?” She asked, leaning in close enough to inhale the sweet aroma that coated him.

“Robert Gray.” He said, offering his hand for her to shake. She took it.

“It is my pleasure to meet you, Robert. I’m Eudaimonia Agathynge.” She shook his hand, letting her fingers trail down his wrist, feeling the tendon tighten at her touch.

Their hands stayed connected as they stared at each other, as if they were involved in competition. Suddenly, he let go of her hand and downed his drink in one go. He turned to her, a small smile adorning his features.

“Care to get out of here with me?” He tested, standing up and pulling out enough money to cover both of their drinks.

“I thought you didn’t care for meaningless sex tonight.” She teased, standing up as well.

“I’m not.” He said, running a hand through his hair. She bit her crimson coloured lips, pondering whether she should leave the event or not.

_To fucking hell with it. _She thought as she hooked her arm with his and they exited the bar.

They walked for a while around the well illuminated town, not saying one word. She enjoyed his company and the warmth he gave off. She could feel his muscles underneath the trench coat he wore, and she intentionally held on tighter. They left the cacophony of the festival behind, walking through the streets. She saw kids in costumes everywhere she looked and concerned parents trailing after them.

The further they got from the park, the less people she saw.

“Where are you taking me, mister Gray?” She asked, pushing him teasingly. He chuckled, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“It’s a surprise.” Something about the way he said it made her feel safe, comfortable enough to trust he wouldn’t harm her. But if he tried something, she was confident she could at least slow him down.

They reached a bridge in what appeared to be the middle of the woods. There were teenagers partying not too far from where they were, but far enough that they couldn’t see them. She could make out the light from the bonfire and the sound of music. He slowly unhooked her arm from him and leaned against the railing of the bridge, looking up at the sky. She took her heels off and imitated his actions. The sky looked beautiful, stars covering every inch of the vast darkness that surrounded the moon. Such sights were impossible to see in the city, so she enjoyed it as much as she could, trying not to get distracted with the attractive man next to her.

“Do you know where we are?” He spoke, interrupting her thoughts.

She looked around, trying to find any clues to indicate where they were, but she couldn’t find any.

“I’m afraid not.”

“We are at what the locals call the Kissing Bridge.” He said, looking into her eyes. His expression gave nothing away.

She smiled wickedly. “So, you brought me here to kiss me, Robert?” She asked, leaning into him, their chests almost touching.

He placed his hand on her cheek, caressing the skin there with reverence. She leaned into his touch, enjoying the feeling of his fingertips against her skin. Slowly, he pulled her into him, his hand on her hip, gripping her tightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself impossibly closer to his chiselled body. He leaned down, and she closed her eyes, waiting for him to kiss her. His face was so close to hers that she could smell the alcohol on his breath, the tangerine aroma that lingered on his neck and the cotton candy that seemed to be his signature scent. She felt the ghost of his lips against her, but the feeling ended as abruptly as it came.

She heard him chuckle and opened her eyes, frowning.

“Not yet, sweet dove.” He murmured, the vibrations of his lips could almost be felt against hers and she had to resist the urge to groan in frustration.

He walked her home a couple of minutes later, his hand on the small of her back. She could swear his every touch lit her on fire. She wanted him so bad she could cry. But now she knew the game he was playing, and she would make sure to beat him at it. It would be a war to see who could endure sexual frustration the most. At her door, he kissed her forehead and bid his farewell, almost leaving her gasping for breath.

He walked away, with his hands in his pockets and into the night. He stopped and looked up at the sky when he was far away enough from her.

His eyes disclosed the golden hunger she had awoken deep inside of him.


	6. Sirens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of the song is Erode by TENDER.  
Enjoy.

_“Human behaviour flows from three main_  
_sources: desire, emotion and knowledge.”_  
-Plato

* * *

Robert Gray kept thinking about the events of the night before obsessively. Every touch, every lingering gaze, every word; absolutely nothing had given him an indication of what she was. She had been entrancing, an absolute nucleus of magnetic energy. Yet, being closer to her had not allowed him to enter her mind. His hunger for her had only increased and being so close to her skin, to the heat of her body, drove him wild. He was famished for her, deprived of the release that her flesh would provide his yearning body.

He knew his subterfuge would plant the seeds for his information harvest, and he eventually would get the answers he sought. So, he stood inside wearing less than he should, for in that moment, he was shapeless, effulgent, the closest he could be to his true form inside the mortal realm. He let the cold in and the fire out, pretending he wasn’t getting desperate with each second he spent close to her, pretending it didn’t matter when he knew it was all that did. Pretending he wasn’t hungry for anyone but her, pretending the sense of familiarity she provided hadn’t broken down the walls of a past he didn’t want to recall and built them back up with her inside of them. She had been so unencumbered, and he was furious. Each word out of her mouth had been a caveat for trouble.

Eudaimonia reminded him of someone, although he wasn’t sure who that was. Her countenance when he had touched her, such vulnerability had been displayed, only for him. But it wasn’t the type of vulnerability he was used to, not the kind that was filled with fear to the brim, with a maddening desire for escape. He was certain that the amount she had shown was not even close to the true quantity humans showed to their mates. He couldn’t understand how humans willingly gave themselves to such connections, it was only a variation of fear. Fear had many causes. Fear of loss, fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of being hurt, and so on, but ultimately all fear is the fear of death, of annihilation. He hadn’t been able to look in her mind to see if that was what she had been feeling when she allowed him to touch her.

And suddenly, his lights dimmed, and he felt fear. He had only experienced that kind of fear once in his eternal life, and it sent him into a panicked breathing frenzy, trying to get air into a pair of lungs he didn’t need.

_“…belong…me…”_

_“…leave it alone…we’ll…a satisfying solution…”_

_“…glowing…this is unprecedented...”_

Robert, formerly known as Pennywise, let out groan after groan of pain until it turned into screaming. His deadlights desperately circled the space they occupied. And little by little, he morphed into a physical form. He was bleeding, he could tell from the warmth seeping out from his human nose.

_“…trying to find…similar to ‘notan’…” _

_“…is fond of you…”_

_“Brother.”_

And suddenly, the pain was gone, leaving his trembling body devoid of emotion. Waiting for his body to regenerate, he stared at his lights above him. Their glow had returned to their normal state, a state of resplendence. Slowly, he sat up, letting the realization of what had just happened to him hit him with a force so strong it made him retch out what he had consumed the day before. Black liquid left his mouth, congealing once it reached the floor.

Words without meaning had filled his head, out of his control. But nothing had bothered him like the last word uttered in his head, it had left a deafening echo, a raw fury deep inside of him. He wasn’t certain if it was what he suspected, but he wouldn’t take any chances.

* * *

“Excellent. Let’s keep up the good work, lads.”

Eudaimonia smiled, content with the fact that the machines had arrived, and they had made significant progress with the construction of her new hotel. The gardens and pools they had planned were barely in their infancy, but it was good enough for her.

_Baby steps, sweetheart, baby steps…_ She repeated in her head, letting the cool air hit her face.

She calmly started walking back to her flat, enjoying the weather. She had started growing used to Derry, despite not knowing much of it. An old lady offered her a sample of a pastry and she took it gladly, chewing the sweet delicacy.

“Miss Agathynge, it’s good to see you.” She heard a voice from behind her say. She turned around, fixing her navy blazer.

She smiled when she recognized Mike Hanlon, the librarian. She walked to him.

“Mr. Hanlon, it’s good to see you too. How have you been?” She spoke, shaking his hand warmly.

“Great! I really enjoyed the festival. It’s a nice change from routine.” He said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “It took me a while, but I finally figured out who you are.” He hinted.

“Oh, really?” She answered, lifting an eyebrow with amusement.

“It’s great that you’re building a hotel here in Derry. It’ll be good for business; we don’t get much tourists around here because of our history.” He added, crossing his arms.

“Your history?” She echoed, placing her hands on her hips as she waited for him to answer.

He seemed taken aback by the fact that she had noticed those particular words, and he mumbled incoherent words, to make the situation seem less important. Eudaimonia saw past it, tilting her head to the side to indicate she was waiting.

“You know, the disappearances and the violent events that happened every few years.” He gulped under her hard gaze.

“I understand. See, I’m in a hurry, perhaps I’ll swing by the library one of these days to read more about Derry’s history. I should get to know my new home, right?” She let it go, freeing him from the misery clearly etched in his face.

“That sounds good.” He answered, grinning at her.

“Very well, see you around, Mr. Hanlon.”

Being in a hurry had been complete bullshit, but she headed home either way. She could do some paperwork and make herself a nice meal. Perhaps she would treat herself and run a hot bath with lavender oil. With that in mind, she hurried her steps until she reached her door. On the floor rested a bouquet of yellow daffodils, with a note attached to it. She smiled, picking them up and reading the note.

> _To new beginnings. -Robert Gray_

She wasn’t used to getting flowers, since it was such an old-fashioned tradition, but it made her feel good, cherished. She entered her apartment and placed the flowers in a vase, making sure they had water. She took one of the flowers with her to the bathroom and placed it on the sink, just while she let the hot water fill her bathtub. She pulled out a bottle of lavender oil from her cabinet and poured a generous amount.

She took off all her clothes and stood naked in her bathroom. _Maybe some music would be nice. _She mused, turning on her speaker and connecting her phone to it. She played a song and made sure it was on repeat. Picking the flower up and bringing it to her nose, she inhaled the sweet aroma of the flower and smiled.

Robert had made her feel like no man before. Normally, she was in control of every move, of every word. But for the first time in her life, she had allowed someone else to control her, and she had enjoyed every moment of it. She had felt so aroused through every interaction. She had been screaming from the inside, begging him to take her right there, to kiss her and ravish her. And now, he had delivered flowers to her door. He must’ve asked the doorman where she lived or asked the doorman to leave them at her door. It had been such a simple and romantic gesture.

She ripped the petals from the daffodil and threw them in the water. She pulled her hair into a bun and got in the bath, hissing at the water burning her skin but enduring either way. She sang along quietly to the song, washing her arms.

Her fingers grazed her breasts delicately and she had to supress a moan. She repeated the action, allowing herself to lean back into the tub and enjoy her own touch. How could one man make her feel like this when he hadn’t even kissed her yet? Had it been his eyes? Or his voice? She ran her hands through her body gently, feeling every muscle and inch of skin. The lyrics of the song in the background teased her. She normally used the song to relax, but it had distorted itself into a sexually charged melody.

Her fingers slowly made their way towards the spot between her legs, and she wasted no time in pleasuring herself. She moved her index finger in circles around the nerves that drove her crazy, and the water moved along with her. She sighed, imagining it was someone else touching her.

She imagined aquamarine eyes looking into hers as he moved gently, soft gasps leaving his lips. She pictured her hands holding onto his muscled shoulders as he chased their climax with nothing but his hips. Pushing a finger in herself, she threw her head back, whispering his name. She wished it was him, she wished it was his hands touching her breasts and she wished it was him burying his face in her neck as he groaned in pleasure. She desperately desired it was not her finger, but him feeling how she clenched around him as she reached her orgasm. She gasped as she added another finger, stroking herself.

She wanted him. She wanted every inch of him inside of her, she wanted to ride him, she wanted to make him feel as good as she felt. Her fingers moved in and out of her fast, and her other hand caressed her, making sure she would feel her peak with force.

And as she pictured how he’d look when he reached his own peak, she came. She pulled her fingers and watched her water soaked-hand glistening with not only the liquid, but with her arousal. She closed her eyes, letting her arm hang from the tub, regaining her breathing.

As she came down from her orgasm, she chuckled. He had done something to her, that was her only explanation. Robert Gray would end up in her bed, it was only a matter of time. The man was a mystery and perhaps that was his charm.

“Look at what you’ve done to me, Robert.” She whispered, opening her eyes and letting the water relax her. She knew she would have to take a shower afterwards; the bath had been meant to relax and it served its purpose. But for now, she’d let the water get cold and imagine all the things she would do to him. She sang the last bit of the song.

_If you want me like that, that's who I'll be_   
_ And if you love me right back, I could be anything_   
_ It's like this and like that_   
_ I think I'm starting to crack_   
_ Then you'll leave and come back_   
_ The odds are starting to stack_   
_ Against me_

She got out of the tub after a while and showered. With a towel, she dried her skin, and with another, she wrapped her wet hair. She turned off the music and exited the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

She didn’t know, though, that Robert had watched every second of what he had done to her.


	7. Moon on the Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Red is such an interesting colour to correlate with emotion, because it's on both ends of the spectrum. On one end you have happiness, falling in love, infatuation with someone, passion, all that. On the other end, you've got obsession, jealousy, danger, fear, anger and frustration.”  
-Taylor Swift_

* * *

The sound of water running, accompanied by the sound of dishes moving around was the only thing signalling the presence of someone in the room. Eudaimonia had woken up early, if waking up half an hour earlier than she normally did could fit the bill. She had gone out for a jog, hoping to see her mystery man around town. To her displeasure, he wasn’t around. He must’ve been working or sleeping. She had mentally chastised herself many times over not exchanging numbers with him. She could’ve texted or called him, maybe plan a date. She didn’t have any means of contacting him, so she would have to wait for Robert to actively seek her out.

She had returned home, frustrated in more ways than she cared to count. She had showered, and changed into a pair of black pants, and a black turtleneck to keep away the cold. She had her beige trench coat resting on the settee and her black heels next to the door. Given the fact that she didn’t know the town as much as she would’ve liked, she had settled for walking around the streets and stopping by the library to study some of Derry’s history. Maybe she would pack some lunch to go and eat it by the Kissing Bridge. She hadn’t been able to see much of the area he had shown her. So, she would make sure to understand the reason behind him taking her there.

In her present, she was washing the dishes she had used to make breakfast, with the sleeves rolled up. Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the broken glass she was washing. She only felt the sharp sting of pain and dropped the glass. _Fuck, shit, fuck. _She cursed inwardly, biting her lip to stop herself from doing it out loud. On instinct, she turned off the faucet and lifted her hand to her face, inspecting the damage. She had a deep cut, trailing from the centre of her palm to the side of it. She grabbed a clean towel and wrapped it around her hand, trying to stop the bleeding. She would wait for it to stop bleeding, and if it didn’t, she would have to get stitches. She sighed, already dreading the process.

Two soft knocks on her door woke her out of her reverie. She looked through the peephole, and her heart skipped a beat when she identified the person at the other side. She smiled, opening the door for him. He looked breath-taking, with his turtleneck sweater and trench coat. She smiled to herself, noticing the unintentionally coordinated choices of attire. He held a coffee cup on one hand and a paper bag on the other. He smiled at her, lifting the bag as to explain his presence.

“Good morning, Robert.” She said, letting him inside of her flat and closing the door behind her.

“I hope I’m not intruding on anything. Did you get my flowers?” He asked, placing the bag and coffee on the island counter.

“I did, thank you so much. They were lovely.” She motioned to the vase on her dining table, flinching at the pain that spread through her injured hand.

His eyes widened slightly at the sight of her blood, and he was inspecting the wound in less than a second. He stood there, watching her hand bleed, saying nothing as he held the soiled towel and her hand. His breathing hitched, and she wondered if the sight of blood bothered him. She was about to pull away her hand when he spoke.

“How did this happen?”

“A broken glass, don’t worry, I’m fine.” She explained, waiting for his next move.

He let out a shuddered breath, running his thumb gently along the skin that wasn’t wounded, staining himself with her blood. She couldn’t help but wonder what had worked him up that way.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” He said, freeing her hand and gently guiding her to the kitchen skin. He stood behind her, towering over her. She could feel every taut rope of muscle against her back. He caged her between his arms, and turned on the faucet, gently placing her hand under the water. She watched from the corner of her eye as he brought his blood-covered thumb to his lips and sucked it clean.

“Does it taste good?” She joked, watching how her blood went down the drain. She heard him let out an animalistic growl behind her, setting every nerve on fire. She had touched herself thinking of him and he was only adding fuel to her lustful imagination.

“Oh, believe me, it does.” He said darkly, hiding his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling the scent of her shampoo. “I bet every inch of you is equally delicious.” There was a dangerous tone to his voice, and she relished in it, ready to play her cards.

She turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing her body against him. His eyes were covered in desire, although she couldn’t quite make sure which type of desire it was. Yet his expression was unreadable. She smirked, knowing she had him.

“Perhaps you’d be interested in a taste?” She whispered. He turned off the faucet, and placed his hands on her hips, pushing her closer to his lower body. She held back a moan at the proximity.

“Should I?” He whispered, his voice barely a whisper as he leaned his forehead to hers.

“You should’ve kissed me when you had the chance, handsome.” She murmured against his neck, disentangling herself from him and heading for her bathroom, where she kept first aid supplies. She heard him chuckle in the background.

“I brought coffee and donuts, is that a suitable apology?” He questioned, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to do more than that. Tell you what…” She began, bandaging her injured hand. “…you seem to know the town better than I do. Why don’t you give me a tour?”

He shook his head, smiling. Then he winked at her.

“Very well, madam. I’ll be your tour guide for today.” He gave in, putting his hands in his pockets.

She smiled back, grabbing the nearest lipstick and applying it to her lips. It seemed the colour theme for the day was blood red. Giving him a friendly pat to the back, she exited the bathroom with him trailing behind her.

* * *

Mike Hanlon was on his way back to the library when he noticed the heir to Sinclair International cheerfully laughing along with a tall man. He was carrying her, and she had her hands holding onto his shoulders for dear life. He said something to make her laugh even harder, then put her down gently.

Against his will, Mike took a seat on a nearby bench to observe them. Admittedly, he had been interested in the girl from the moment she spoke to him. Not because he was attracted to her, but because there was something familiar about her. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he assumed it would come to him eventually. She had been oddly interested in Derry’s history, and he considered exploiting that as much as he could. Contrary to the rest of people in town, she wasn’t under the clown’s influence. He could use that.

He watched as she stopped in front of a dying tree, touching the bark and saying something to the man. The man shook his head and shrugged.

Opening a book to pretend he was busy, he tried to disguise his clear interest in the couple. It was as if something was holding him in place, he didn’t want to intrude on their privacy, but he couldn’t stop watching either. He looked down at his book, faking interest in the paragraphs he had read a million times before, as the couple approached. As soon as they got close enough, a terrifying chill ran down his entire body. Fear took hold and froze him in place. He was having a hard time breathing and he didn’t know why. Until miss Agathynge spoke.

“Mr. Hanlon, it’s good to see you.” She greeted; her arm hooked around the man’s as she rested her head against his shoulder.

He lifted his eyes from the book, forcing a small smile to hide the fact he felt terrified for reasons unknown. “Miss Agathynge, it’s good to see you too.” He answered, closing the book and placing it on the pile next to him.

“This is Robert Gray, a friend of mine.” She introduced them. The man, Robert, offered him his hand for him to shake.

“A pleasure.” The man said, his voice laced with a dangerous low tone.

In that moment, Mike looked into the man’s eyes. In a single second, he felt something was out of place with him. Those eyes were familiar in more ways than one, trying to remind him of something he had wanted to forget but never could.

“The pleasure is mine.” He answered, shaking his hand. The man gripped him with force, smiling at him.

Mike could feel the way his body threatened to activate the flight or fight mode, and it all directed to Robert Gray. The cursed smile resembled someone else’s. He had felt such fear a few times in his life, and they all had had the same reason behind them. He could’ve sworn he saw the man’s aquamarine eyes turn gold for a second. He freed his hand, putting it behind his back. They stared at each other until Eudaimonia cleared her throat.

“I was thinking about stopping by the library later. Is that okay with you?” She asked happily. He saw how the eerie man wrapped his arm around her shoulders protectively.

“Absolutely, miss.” He responded, feeling how he regained control of his body little by little.

“Splendid. I’ll see you later then.”

They bid their farewells, and he watched them leave. He slumped on the bench, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His gaze followed them. He could see the way she touched him and how Robert simply chuckled at her actions. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think they were more than just friends.

The eyes, the smile. They would haunt him for the rest of his life, and he could recognize them anywhere. He didn’t have any proof, and blatantly accusing the man wouldn’t do him any good. Kids had begun to go missing again, but the clown had yet to make itself known. They had defeated the clown; he knew that much. They had won the fight against It.

Besides, It wasn’t capable of human emotions, right? Why would the clown be interested in the poor young woman? Why was the clown even interacting with humans if it wasn’t with an intent to kill them? He desperately wished his suspicions were incorrect, It couldn’t be back.

Either way, Mike would have to keep his eyes open for any signs of It, even more so now that he believed the thing had an interest in miss Agathynge.

He walked to the tree she had touched, somehow it was calling to him. His eyebrows raised when he realized the spot she had touched was bursting with life. Small flowers covered the area where her hand had been, and it seemed to be spreading to the rest of the tree.

There was something going on with them or he was finally going mad.


	8. Closer Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“You have to take risks. We will only _  
_understand the miracle of life fully when we_  
_ allow the unexpected to happen.”_  
_ -Paulo Coelho_

* * *

Derry wasn’t as big as she originally had thought. Even so, it had a lovely charm to it. To her delight, her tour guide knew a lot about the town, pointing out small interesting details in certain points. He had a tranquil energy about him, a little bit restrained. Yet, she loved it when she got him to smile, no matter how small it was. He was exceptionally good at making her laugh, as well. She found herself constantly thinking about him, constantly touching herself to fantasies of him, constantly wishing he was in the same room with her.

She worked long hours to try and keep her mind away from him. The hotel was coming along beautifully, but it would take months until it was finished. If she was being completely honest with herself, she didn’t mind. Her mystery man made her want to stay for as long as needed.

They were both very good players at the game, which had her increasingly frustrated, because neither was willing to give in. Perhaps she was the only one aware of the game, perhaps he had his reasons for not kissing her yet. Her mind constantly reminded her that if he were to reject her, it would take a long time to get over him. She was always in control, but she knew that relationships were not something to control. Love was not a battle for power.

_As if I could call it love. _She scoffed at herself, pulling at her sweater to cover her bare thighs. It was storming outside, and she sighed, knowing her workers would have to retire for the day because she refused to have anyone getting hurt during pay hours. She had long finished whatever paperwork her assistant had sent her, so she wasn’t doing anything particularly interesting. She had showered, had a snack, and finished work. She considered taking a nap, enjoy her free time. She pulled out her phone, checking for any new emails.

“Great, now I have nothing to do.” She said to herself, closing her laptop and leaving it on the coffee table. She rubbed her socked feet together, trying to get some warmth into her body. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to wear nothing but a sweater and her underwear.

To her surprise, someone knocked at her door. She recognized the rhythm and strength in the knocks, so she didn’t even bother checking who it was and opened the door. In front of her, stood Robert Gray, soaked to the bone and holding a bouquet of blue hydrangeas. Although they looked a little beaten, because he had clearly been in a rush, they were still beautiful.

She smiled, widening the gap of the door so he could step inside. He had to bend his legs a little to pass through the doorframe, because of his height. She chuckled at the comicality of it, taking the flowers from him and placing them in a vase.

He took off his coat, hanging it on the coat rack. The scarf soon followed, along with his shoes next to the door. Almost tentatively, he approached her, kissing her forehead and running his thumb along her cheek affectively. She leaned into his touch, almost wishfully. He let go of her as suddenly as he touched her. She frowned, but quickly covered her displeasure with a mask of politeness.

“I wasn’t expecting you today. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” She asked, walking to her couch and sitting down. He didn’t answer, instead opting to place some logs on the fireplace and lighting it. Once he was satisfied with the fire, he positioned himself next to her, his arm resting behind her head.

“Can’t I visit my sweet dove?” He questioned with a naïve incredulity that made her heart flutter. He leaned his head back against the settee and closed his eyes.

“Of course, you can.” She simply said, standing up and heading into her bedroom in search of her Bluetooth speaker. If they were going to stay silent, at least she would have some music in the background as she enjoyed his company.

Robert cracked an eye open, wondering where the human had gone. He had been spending a lot of time with her, trying to understand why she was guarded from his telepathy. He could detect emotions and memories, and depending on the person’s complexity of cognition, even their thoughts. But she was just a big shield. He had tried controlling her mind once or twice and had failed miserably. With each passing day, he became angrier, he became less patient. He could feel his tolerance slipping away.

But that wasn’t the only thing that had begun slipping away. His hunger had subsided, he wasn’t nearly as hungry as he used to be, and he credited it to either not needing to feed as much anymore or to the craving he had for her flesh.

“Sorry, do you mind if I play some music?” She inquired, placing the speaker on the coffee table along with her laptop and turning it on.

He simply shook his head in response. She sat back down, looking for a song on her phone and once she found it, he was delightfully surprised at how pleasant the melody was. He dared to peek at her, chuckling when he found her toying with the long sleeves of her sweater. She was almost bare, exposing her skin to him teasingly, reminding him he had yet to taste her.

“Hey, come here.” He ordered, patting his leg. She smiled at him wickedly and laid down with her head on his lap.

For a moment, everything was peaceful. For a moment, her energy didn’t bother him or mock him, but comfort him. He watched her with curiosity as she pulled a blanket from a drawer inside of the coffee table and wrapped it around her body using only one arm. He said nothing, simply playing with her hair. It was then, when he realized, that he had never questioned her hair colour. It was unusual for a human, especially if it was not artificial.

“Is your hair naturally white?” She smiled at his question, moving her head further into his lap to get comfortable.

“It is, although most people believe it’s not. My family has always had strange recessive genes.” Robert nodded at her answer, now determined to find out more about her linage.

“You’ve never told me about your family.” He hinted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear so he could see her face. She hummed.

“There’s not much to say. I was born an only child into a privileged household. My parents loved me very much and taught me most of the things I know. My mother was the first to pass, she died in her sleep, it was completely unexpected. My father followed a couple of years after, he lost the battle to cancer. I loved them both so much, I still do.” She sighed, opening her eyes and staring at the fireplace.

He leaned down, placing a kiss to her cheek and wiping the stray tear that had escaped her eye. She smiled at him.

“What about you, Rob?”

“Rob?” He huffed.

“Well…calling you Robert is nice, but it feels as if I’m talking to an elder. Do you not like it?”

“It’s fine.” He accepted, shaking his head in amusement. Humans really were strange creatures.

“So?” She pressed, closing her eyes once more.

“I think we’re going to need a cup of something if we’re going down that road.” He said, gently lifting her head from his lap and walking to the kitchen.

She shrugged, standing up and following him, the blanket never leaving her shoulders.

“What would you like?” She asked, opening her cabinets. “I’ve got…tea, coffee, alcohol…oh, and cocoa!” She exclaimed; excitement etched into her countenance.

“Cocoa?” He spoke, watching with curiosity as she pulled out the box.

“You’ve never had cocoa?” She beamed, opening it and inhaling the saccharine aroma that it gave off.

“Heard of it, never had it.” He simply declared, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms on his chest.

She grinned, turning and pulling out the ingredients she would need to prepare it. She took off the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, continuing with her work. His breath got caught in his throat at the sight of her derriere. He had begun to notice that the hunger he felt for her wasn’t entirely for feeding purposes. His human form clearly indicated that, as he adjusted his pants, suddenly feeling how tight they were around his groin. It was another type of desire, one he wasn’t entirely familiar with, since he had never had the need to engage in coitus with a mate. It was illogical, she wasn’t even his mate.

How could he, the eater of worlds, have the need to procreate with a pathetic, little, weak human? Yet there he stood, watching every movement, wondering how every inch of skin would feel underneath his touch. He could see and feel the warmth that emanated from the spot between her legs. Oh, he remembered the way she had touched herself while thinking of him. He had heard every moan, whimper and groan. He had watched and studied every movement of her fingers to learn how to pleasure her. He was no stranger to human anatomy, but he had never engaged in the vulgarity of human sex. He had wondered…how it would feel to be the one to make her feel that way. How it would bring pride to make her scream his name as he pounded into her with wild abandon.

“Here.” She broke him out of his reverie, handing him a cup of brown liquid. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. “It’s okay, I swear it’s not poisoned.” She joked, taking the blanket from him and leaning against the window, watching the rain fall.

He chuckled, amused by the idea of a little human poison harming him. He took his previous spot on the settee and sipped the hot beverage, pleasantly surprised at how delicious it was.

“Now I need to know all about your family.” She stated, sipping her cup.

“It’s a sad story.” He warned before continuing, watching for any indication of her wanting him to stop. When he found none, he opened his mouth once more. “I don’t remember my parents. They abandoned me and my brother when we were young. We spent most of our lives in the system. My brother…he was quite the creative visionary. A family eventually adopted both of us, and they were lovely. I remember the woman baking the best chocolate chip cookies I have ever had. One day…I was out working on a school project, and when I got home, there were paramedics everywhere. Turns out my brother choked on a galaxy or two.”

She said nothing, only lifted her eyebrow questioningly at the last sentence. He quickly composed himself, trying to explain it better for her human mind to understand. Although he was making up most of it, some of it still held truth.

“He loved to build things out of Legos. He must’ve been too young, too stupid…because he choked on a piece and died from lack of oxygen. After that, I ran away from the foster home. Believe it or not, I joined the circus. I used to be a clown. But even that became far too much, so I became a private investigator, and studied under the watchful eye of an academic master. I have a degree on astrophysics. It was never my passion, but I did it anyway. In my free time, I’m a freelance writer, because it turns out, I’m great at scaring people.” He finished, searching her face for any reactions.

That had been the most words he had ever spoken to her. She placed her cup on a nearby side table and sat in front of him with her legs crossed. She leaned in, placing her hands on either side of his face, caressing the skin there lovingly.

“I’m so sorry, love.” She said, pushing herself up with her legs and kissing his forehead.

Somehow, that simple action, stirred something inside of him.

And for the very first time, the earth rumbled as the mountain he had of lost artefacts in the sewers crumbled, every piece dissolving into thin air and light as if it had never been there at all.

For the first time, It felt something other than anger.

It felt joy.


	9. Candles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Is there anything better than to be longing_  
_ for something, when you know it is within reach?”_  
_ -Greta Garbo_

* * *

She had listened to every word that came out of his inviting lips with a desperate starvation to know more about him. She had to refrain herself from running into his arms and hugging him to offer comfort during the first half of his narrative. She understood that if she wanted to keep him talking, she would have to stay silent and do nothing. He would talk on his own, aware of the fact that she was simply waiting for him to continue. But there had been something heart-breaking about the way he had concluded his story, perhaps it had to do with the cracking in his voice.

With her hands on either side of his face, she stared into his aquamarine eyes with longing. His expression gave nothing away, but the way his hands rested on her hips, hesitating whether to pull her close to him or not was enough. Neither of them pulled away, simply enjoying the contact.

The storm outside worsened, a physical representation of what the eldritch being felt on the inside. His mind couldn’t properly articulate or process what he was feeling, he had no way of reasoning the way her touch had altered his mood. Joy, he knew what it was, yet he had never experienced until then. He had considered himself above human emotion, beyond the limbic pulsations that drove those pathetic creatures into madness and inevitable destruction. He only knew the uncomfortable spectrum of emotion, never had he imagined he would be feeling what had disgusted him so in the past.

All his actions and words had a goal: to find out why she was shielded from him and what it was that protected her. He wondered, though, if it would be such a betrayal to his own wretched beliefs about humans…to simply enjoy what she offered. Time was nothing to him, yet it appeared as if it went by faster when she was with him. Perhaps it was the distraction she provided.

He looked into her eyes, as if they were windows into the information he desired. They were dark, plentiful, engaging, hypnotising. Her pupils were dilated so much the brown had turned into ink black, giving him the inability to identify where they began and where they ended.

She let go of him, turning to face the fireplace. He noticed then, that her the colour of her eyes reminded him of the way water ran through wood. They reminded him of the magnitude of a black hole, with the beautiful capacity to destroy. Her eyes were the colour of the earth people desperately hoped to possess because it meant life itself.

“Maybe you should stay the night.” She spoke suddenly, returning her attention back to him. He leaned in, with the intent to tease, but he was surprised when she placed a hand to his chest and gently pushed him back. “It’s storming outside, I don’t want anything to happen to you.” She confessed.

Her words shook him to his very core. She expressed concern…for him? Concern was linked to affection. She cared for him.

He smiled at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Alright.”

Oh, he was finally getting what he wanted. She cared for him, she cared for him, she cared for _him_. He was getting the intimacy he needed to pull information out of her, but it was only the beginning. He needed, he wanted more. It was a different type of hunger. He was becoming greedy, he wanted it all, every bit of intimacy she had to offer. The betrayal and fear she’d feel when he finally had access to her mind would make her even more delicious.

“Is that the only reason you want me to stay, though?” He asked, teasingly as he hid his face in her neck, inhaling her aroma. He wanted her bad, albeit he wasn’t certain in what way.

She sighed, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Just how long are we going to keep playing this game?” She whispered, throwing her head back as he started peppering her neck with butterfly kisses. He gave a particularly rough bite at the skin that covered her jugular.

“Game? What game?” He questioned, genuinely interested in her choice of words.

“This.” She answered, pulling away and gesturing at them. “We touch, we talk, we spend time as if we were lovers, but we haven’t even kissed yet.” She complained, rubbing the spot where he had bit her.

“Do you want to?” He pressed, leaning back against the settee.

“Are you really that oblivious?” She spat back, crossing her arms against her chest, highlighting the fact that she wore nothing underneath the thick sweater.

He tilted his head to the side, looking annoyingly adorable. She huffed, standing up and walking to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of whatever alcohol she found first. She would need it if he was going to stay the night. He followed her, his footsteps barely making noise in comparison to the raging storm outside.

Robert watched her as she opened a bottle of wine and drank straight from it, not even bothering to reach for a glass. He simply leaned against the counter, watching her every move. She was frustrated, he could tell. Unconsciously, he wondered how kissing her would feel. It was his goal to reach the level of mate intimacy, but he was holding back. He didn’t want to lose control and eat her before he solved the mystery. His restraint became weaker with every day he spent near her.

“It’s getting late, I should probably head to bed. You can take the couch, there’s extra blankets and pillows in the closet.” She stated, pointing at a small door on one of the walls.

“Do you not want to stay and play?” He mocked, smirking at her. She glared at him, placing the bottle back where she had found it.

In the blink of an eye, she was standing right in front of him, poking his chest with her index finger and glaring at him. Based on her stance and expressions, he guessed she was angry. He had yet to see that emotion on her, so it thrilled him to find out more.

“I just might. You’re not going anywhere tonight, big boy.” She said, unexpectedly calm. He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly.

She simply smiled, running her hands down his chest and untucking his shirt from his pants. He held back a gasp, surprised at her sudden change of demeanour. She slowly ran her hands back up, gently unbuttoning the shirt. He watched her, letting his hands rest on the small of her back. Once his chest was fully uncovered for the world to see, she took a moment to appreciate how sculpted he was. Wherever her fingertips grazed him, his skin tingled. She pushed his legs apart with her knee, letting it rest between his thighs.

Agonizingly passive, she let her hands rest on his hips. She was looking at him straight in the eyes, and he had to control himself not to flip her over and dominate whatever happened next. She smirked evilly, noticing how his eyes turned golden. She blinked and they were back to their aquamarine shade. She dismissed it as a lightning trick and resumed her actions.

His breath quickened once she placed the palm of her hand over him, slowly teasing him as she moved it up and down. He threw his head back with his eyes closed when she applied pressure to her movements. And as soon as the pleasure began, she stopped.

He opened his eyes, confused at the sudden lack of contact, and noticed the place in which she had stood was completely empty. And there she was, at the other side of the counter, sitting on a barstool with her legs open, giving him an inviting picture of her. He wished he could be rid of the vulgar fabric that hid her from his gaze. She looked pleased with herself, as she pulled her hair into a bun and winked at him.

“You’re going to pay for that.” He vowed, running his hand through his hair in an effort to distract himself from the ache she had caused him. She chuckled. “Oh, sweet dove, you’re going to pay for that.”

“Oh, am I?” She dared, crossing her legs. How dare she deprive him of what he desired? He was a being beyond her comprehension, he was the eater of worlds, the mastermind behind everything. He had no equal anymore, he was all-powerful. But not against her.

He growled, feeling how his eyes threatened to turn golden and turned around.

“Because all I want is for you to bend me over this counter and fuck me.” She stated bluntly.

He could feel his shoulders shaking as he laughed. The human dared to order him around. Did she think he would answer to her every whim and desire? She was nothing compared to him. She was but an enigma to be solved and then thrown out.

But when he turned to face her again, and he noticed the blush adorning her cheeks and the way her mouth was slightly open in the shape of an “o”, with rebellious strands of hair adorning her face and her sweater exposing her shoulder…he figured he didn’t want to throw her out just yet.

He walked to her, grabbing her by the hips and lifting her. She yelped at his actions but didn’t complain. Gently, he sat her on the counter and forced her legs open with his hands. She stayed silent as he placed himself between them and untied her hair.

“Maybe I should. Maybe I should remind you who is in charge.” He whispered against her neck. Her shuddering breath urged him on.

“Rob…” She murmured, looking down at him as he kissed her neck, leaving a present for her to remember him by once he left.

He looked up, his lips almost touching hers. Her half-lidded eyes screamed at him to do as she had asked.

How wrong could it be if it felt so good? He had a concept of what was wrong and what was right, according to humans, but he mostly chose to ignore it, since he had no use for it unless it was for attracting victims. Would he regret engaging in sexual activity with her? This hunger of his…it wasn’t just for sustenance anymore. It was lust. It was desire. He desired her as a mate, he lusted for her body.

He pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice soft. He nodded, pulling her into an embrace.

“This feels right. Just this, just for now.” He answered honestly, not ready to fully face the realization of what he had discovered.

He was above human emotions; he was above lust. Or so he had thought. Anger, he noticed, was also a human emotion. Joy and lust, as new as they were to him, were also human. He had felt anger ever since the Loser’s Club had brought him down. But now, another one of their species was bringing out different kinds of emotions. He wanted time to understand them.

“Okay.” She answered, returning the embrace and placing her chin on his shoulders.

Just for now.


	10. Patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.”  
\- Jean Jacques Rousseau_

* * *

A few days had passed since the last time Eudaimonia had seen Robert. All the way into her present, she was both conflicted and confused at the events that unfolded in her flat. Rob had been receptive to her ministrations and seductions, until…he wasn’t. Had she pushed him too far? She knew that coming across a man who didn’t take the chance to jump into bed immediately was rare, but she didn’t want him to feel pressured either.

They had remained in each other’s embrace for what seemed like hours, until he freed her from his hold. He had kissed her head and given her a small smile. He had noticed her worried expression, so he made a funny face to make her laugh. He had promised he was okay, but he hadn’t elaborated further, and she didn’t want to press. He stayed the night in her flat, but he had slept on the settee.

She remembered fondly how, when she woke up the next morning and headed to the living room the check on him, she noticed his legs hung from the settee. He had been too tall for it. She had cursed under her breath, making a mental note to let him take the bed next time he spent the night.

Feelings of concern had surfaced after not seeing nor hearing from him in days. She worried she had scared him away. He hadn’t looked or acted any different, perhaps only a little conflicted.

Keeping good on her promise, she had called the library, asking for an appointment with Mike Hanlon. The woman on the other side had laughed, saying she only needed to drop by. Eudaimonia had facepalmed herself. So, she made her way to the library, with two coffee cups in her hands. She watched the kids run around town, unbothered by the burdens of adult life. She could remember a time when she had been able to do the same. The only thing she had needed back then were her parents and her dog. She smiled sadly and considered looking into adopting a puppy when she returned home.

Home…it was strange to think of the city as her home now. She had gotten so used to Derry that it was hard to imagine herself going back. The locals had grown fond of her, and she had been happy about it, knowing her flat wouldn’t get destroyed once again. She knew the streets better, after Rob had given her a tour. Oh, Rob. He was another reason as to why Derry felt like home. Would he move to the city with her if she asked? She didn’t think so. He had his whole life in Derry, he had settled in it, he moved around town as if he had been there since it had been first built. If anything, she was in a better position to move to Derry if she desired to do so. She had the money, the household name. She had every means to turn Derry into a tourist attraction, she only needed to milk the right facts, the right stories.

Looking around for Mr. Hanlon, she smiled when she found him hunched over a desk, ten different books opened in front of him.

“Mr. Hanlon, I hope I don’t take too much of your time.” She announced herself, placing the cup on the desk.

He gasped, laughing softly when he realized it was her.

“You can take as much of my time as you want, miss. Please, sit down.” He offered, pulling a chair from another table and signalling for her to take a seat. She thanked him.

She glimpsed at the books, all of them ranging from mythology to history. She raised an eyebrow questioningly but made no comment.

“So, what do you want to know?” He asked cheerily, clasping his hands together.

“Well…why don’t we start from the beginning?” She offered, sipping her coffee.

They spent hours talking about Derry, about the most important spots and the history behind them. She learned about the people that had lived here. Mr. Hanlon, who had insisted she call him Mike, had even told her about his old childhood friends. There had been a nostalgic layer to the way he had spoken about them, as if everyone had forgotten but him. The visit to the library had proved to be educational. Then, she remembered the things he had said about violent things happening in town.

“What can you tell me about the violent events?” She asked suddenly.

Mike had gone pale and he had begun trembling. She immediately regretted asking, she had not taken into consideration the fact the he could’ve been witness or victim to some of them. She remained quiet, waiting for his response. She placed a hand over his in a comforting manner. As soon as her skin made contact with his, he calmed down. The swift and unexpected  
instantaneity with which he calmed down surprised them both.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” He trailed off, looking out the window, at the tree she had touched. He had been observing the tree for quite some time after running into her and her…friend. The tree had recovered, as if it had never wilted. Even though autumn was at its peak, the tree remained strong, every leaf attached to it, with flowers blooming at its top. He didn’t want to believe it had anything to do with either of them, he had rationalized it, thinking it was a rarity of mother nature’s doing.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, it’s okay.” She comforted him, rubbing circles on his back.

“No, it’s fine.” He answered, straightening in his seat and opening a notebook, drawing a timeline for her. “Originally, Derry was just a beaver camp. One day, 91 people vanished without a trace. Then, in 1864, 120 were shot by a gang called Derry Padrinos. Only 11 survived. In 1900, 5 policemen were murdered by the same gang. In 1908, 102 people died during the Kitchener Ironworks explosion.”

Eudaimonia held her breath, her head feeling lightheaded at the amount of information she was receiving. She placed her hand on her chest, feeling how her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

“In 1935, the Bradley Gang was executed by the citizens of Derry, during a shootout. In 1962…The Black Spot was burned down by a cult. And finally, the most recent, over 30 kids disappeared between 1988 and 1989…they never found the culprit.” He finished, circling the last event twice.

She stayed silent for a while, processing what he had told her. In a way, it echoed in her memory, as if she had been there for each event.

“It’s interesting…” She began, feeling a headache coming. “Did they have any suspects?”

Mike shook his head, but she got the feeling that he knew more than he let on. She decided not to push it, planning on getting the information eventually.

“Thank you, Mike. This has been educational, and I feel like I know Derry inside and out now.” She commented, grinning.

“It has been my pleasure. Not many people go around digging for our history.” He replied, closing the books. “If I may…” Mike trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Yes?”

“Your friend, Robert, how long have you known him for?” Mike said, his voice unsteady.

Eudaimonia tilted her head in confusion but answered, nonetheless.

“A while now, we met at the Halloween festival. Is something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s just…he seems really familiar.” He said, frowning. “Just a word of advice from an old man, Eudaimonia, be careful around him. He…he doesn’t feel right.”

She took offence but said nothing, nodding in response. Standing up, a wave of dizziness hit her, causing her to stumble back slightly. Mike noticed it, putting a hand on her back for support. He was instantly overwhelmed with a deep feeling of calm, but he pushed the strangeness of it aside.

“It’s okay, I’m okay…I’m okay.” She repeated, putting her hand on her forehead, trying to alleviate the dizziness.

“Are you sure?” He asked, letting go of her tentatively, looking for any signs of her losing her balance again.

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” As the feeling subsided, she nodded, giving him a thumbs up. Mike seemed unconvinced but didn’t push it.

She slowly made her way towards the entrance, feeling weak. She tried to ignore the feeling, thinking it was simply a result of not having eaten anything for lunch. Her vision started failing, every time she blinked, the world got a little darker. Not only darker, but sideways. It took her a moment to register that she was on the floor before darkness finally took her.

* * *

“Eudaimonia?!” She could hear Mike calling for her, but it seemed so far away.

There were panicked voices in the background, and the sound of an ambulance was the last sound she was truly able to recognize before silence took over.

She felt sunlight hitting her face, and she turned her head to the side to escape from it. She tried to open her eyes but was unable to. She focused on feeling what was around her. Fear gripped her when she realized she was in what appeared to be a confined space. Not only was it closed off, it was covered in…some kind of gooey substance. She felt around a little bit more, trying to find a way out. Panic started setting in when she found none, making her hyperventilate. She shook her head, willing herself to calm down before she lost her fucking mind.

“Calm down, little one. You’re safe.” She heard a voice in her head say.

She tried to open her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. _Fan-fucking-tastic, now I’m mute. I need to find a way out. _She thought.

To her surprise, she heard chuckling on her head, and it wasn’t hers.

“It’s not ready yet.” The voice affirmed.

_Where am I? _She asked, thinking the words rather than saying them.

“You don’t have to worry about that. You’ll be out of here soon.”

_How long? Who are you?_

“Soon. You don’t have to worry about who I am, though. You’ll find out eventually.”

_This cryptic bullshit isn’t helping me. _The voice laughed gleefully, only speaking after it had calmed down.

“The time has come, little one. You have taken my place.”

_What does that mean? _

“You’re smart, you’ll figure it out.”

She felt something pulling her away, and pain started burning every inch of her body. She grasped desperately at the space in which she was confined, trying to find something to hold onto.

_Wait, don’t leave! Why am I here? _

“Trust yourself, my child, you’ll do just fine.”

_Wait! –_

She sat up, gasping for breath, her eyes as wide as plates. She felt confused, disoriented. Then, a pair of arms wrapped around her, and she stared at worried aquamarine eyes. She placed her hand on his arm, patting him to reassure Rob she was fine.

“I’m back.” She whispered; her voice hoarse.


	11. All the Little Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Loyalty and devotion lead to bravery._  
_ Bravery leads to the spirit of self-sacrifice. _  
_ The spirit of self-sacrifice creates trust in the power of love.”_  
_ -Morihei Ueshiba_

* * *

The sewers, his haven, had turned into something he didn’t recognize. His collection was gone, the walls weren’t dirty anymore, instead they were shining from the meticulously deep clean that had targeted them. Even the water that came in was sparkling, not a trace of waste or contamination in it. He couldn’t understand what had happened, and he had searched every inch of the sewers, looking for the culprit. He had found none. Not even the bodies were there.

His spider legs had given in, slumping against the spiked structure that protected his deadlights, his very life essence. It seemed as if the area that surrounded the structure was the only thing unchanged. He was not necessarily displeased with the change, but he was bothered by the fact that he hadn’t had a hand in it. No one could enter unless he allowed them to do so, which meant that someone had broken the barrier of energy he kept around.

He had been looking for footprints, or any trace of anyone entering, when he felt it. The fear, pure and raw, incessant and stronger than any kind of fear he had ever felt before that didn’t belong to him. But when he heard her scream in pain, he wasn’t certain about not being scared, as well. His first instinct was to run to her, stop whatever was causing her pain and fear. But he stayed still, pondering why he was reacting to her fear like that. He should’ve been delighted about it, eager even.

Yet it didn’t feel right. Nothing about her fear felt right. He rationalised it, thinking he didn’t like it because it wasn’t him inflicting it upon her. She cried again, and he threw all trail of thought to the abyss, morphing into his human form and transporting to her apartment.

Empty. It was fucking empty. He double checked every room, just in case, as if she would suddenly appear out of thin air. Running his hands through his hair, he tried to think of where she could be. He couldn’t reach her, since he didn’t have any power over her. Then it came to him, that he could reach other people. He desperately jumped from mind to mind, looking for her in their memories. Until he found her in Mike Hanlon’s memory, watching as she collapsed to the floor, her white hair splayed all over the wooden ground. He watched how the member of the Loser’s Club tagged along in the ambulance, gently moving her hair out of her face, like a father would. He growled, not liking one bit how he dared to touch his toy. She belonged to him. Only him.

She was at the hospital. He had moved anyone who stood in his way, by either controlling their minds or pushing them as he ran to her room. He threw the door open and found himself face to face with Mike Hanlon.

“What happened?” He demanded, rushing to her side and inspecting her for any fatal injuries.

“I…don’t know. She simply passed out. The doctors ran several tests on her, and they found nothing.” The former kid answered.

Robert didn’t answer, finally calming down when he found no trace of being attacked on her. He caressed her face, inwardly flinching at how cold her skin was to the touch. She was safe and sound. He wouldn’t let anything, or anyone harm her. She was his to caress, his to play with, his to talk to, his to fuck, his to eat.

“How did you know how to find her?” Whispered Mike, taking the seat he had been previously occupying.

Robert stood straighter, looking at Mike in the eyes.

“It’s time for you to leave. You’re tired, get some rest.” He commanded, feeling how his words affected Mike. He didn’t feel like answering to a human, especially not one who had been involved with his downfall. Controlling him was easier and more effective than dealing with him. He’d probably do it later.

And so, he was left alone with her. He sat down, watching her chest slowly rise and fall. He had been avoiding her, trying to process the emotions she evoked in him. What was it about her that affected him so much? He had felt her fear and instead of preparing to feast on her, he had run to her. He had felt panic setting in when he couldn’t find her. How dare she cause him so much trouble? How dare she torture him so?

After a couple of hours, a doctor entered the room with a chart in hand, and her eyes widened when she noticed he was there. She offered him a smile, making the small wrinkles on her mouth more prominent.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know there was someone here. You can’t be here unless you’re family.” She stated, offering him an apologetic look.

He moved his fingers, making a wedding band appear on his ring finger. He lifted his hand for her to see.

“Ah, I see. Very well, Mr. Agathynge. I didn’t know she was married.” She continued. “She suffered from a psychogenic blackout. She must’ve been under a great deal of stress, poor thing.” She commented as she ran a hand through Eudaimonia’s hair.

He had to hold back from snapping her hand in half.

“But the good news is, she should wake up soon. Then, she’ll be able to go home.” Writing down something in her chart, she looked at him with interest.

“Thank you.” He replied, trying to control himself.

The doctor should’ve left after giving him the diagnosis, but she didn’t. She stayed there, glued to her spot, staring at him with curiosity.

“Is something the matter?” He questioned, his voice sounding more annoyed than he had originally meant to.

The woman broke out of her reverie, shaking her head and chuckling at herself. She placed the chart under her armpit, holding it there with her arm.

“You must really love her.” She bluntly stated, placing the pen she had been using to write on her hair. “It’s the way you look at her. I used to look at my husband the same way.”

He opened his mouth to protest but closed it when he realized they were supposed to be married. He nodded, returning his attention to Eudaimonia.

“But don’t listen to the ramblings of an old woman. I’m sure you two will be very happy together. If you need anything, press that button over there. A nurse will come immediately.” She concluded as she exited the room, closing the door behind her.

He scoffed as soon as she left, replaying the woman’s indignant accusation in his head. Him? Love? Not even remotely possible. He was above humans; he wasn’t a hopeless child. He was an eternal, a scion of –

Eudaimonia sat up suddenly, gasping for breath. She was looking around the room, not particularly searching for anything but answers as to where she was. His body moved on its own, standing up and wrapping her up in his embrace. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. She was okay.

He felt her hand pat his forearm. “I’m back.” She suddenly spoke.

He freed her from his embrace, sitting down on the hospital bed and placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m glad, dove.” He answered, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

“What happened?” She asked.

He narrated everything to her, skipping the obvious parts and replacing them with white lies. According to his story, he had been working when someone approached him, informing him that she was being taken to the hospital. She nodded when he concluded.

She was lost in thought, barely paying any attention to him after he finished talking.

“Thank you for not leaving me alone.” She croaked, tilting her head to the side to rest it on his hand.

“I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” He promised, knowing he could keep it. She scooted to the side, patting down the spot next to her. He laid down, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head.

She let out an uncharacteristic giggle, burying her face in his chest.

“What?”

“It’s just…I could’ve died, and you would’ve spent the rest of your life wondering what it would feel like to kiss me.” She joked.

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him, amused at her seemingly random comment. She was truly strange.

“You’re right.” He stated, looking down at her. She raised her head, staring into his eyes expectantly.

He leaned down, kissing the corner of her lips and pulling away, pushing her face back into his chest gently.

“It doesn’t count, asshole.” She snickered, but her words were muffled by the fabric of his dress shirt.

“I know.”

They stayed like that until she fell asleep. He could feel himself also drifting to sleep, both his mind and body comforted by her presence. He closed his eyes, deciding to join her in the land of dreams.

* * *

_“You belong to me!”_

_“…glowing…this is unprecedented…”_

_“…you…do you hear me?” _

_“…his place.” _

He opened his eyes, his vision slightly fuzzy. He let out a soft groan, bringing his hand to his head to rub the pain away. He remembered the words. He could never forget them. He had investigated his suspicions, and they had not been confirmed. Nothing had changed since the last time he had returned to the Macroverse.

But he couldn’t help but to feel uneasy. The visions had repeated themselves, barely containing any new information. It didn’t help that they were all echoed by a thousand different voices, not giving him any indication of the emissary of such messages. He was no fool, he knew they meant something, but he couldn’t link them to anything in his memory. Perhaps they were omens, but he wasn’t certain whether they were good or bad for him yet.

Too many things were changing for him at once, he couldn’t fathom the reason why, but he was hell bent on finding it. Nothing happened in Derry without him knowing, he controlled every thought, every person, every weather, every inch. He would make sure things went back to normal.

Even his appetite seemed to be gone. He hadn’t eaten in days; not even easy prey was enough to tempt him. He had begun thinking about going back into hibernation, he would only sleep for a few more months, but he had nothing left to do if he wasn’t feeding.

A small sigh broke that fantasy. He looked down, staring into the face of the woman who had kept him entertained. She was still a mystery, an exception to his influence. He enjoyed her company, her touch and her words. Perhaps he’d consider taking her with him into his long rest. She wouldn’t be able to fight him, even if she tried. Would she come if he asked? He didn’t know, but he could guess her answer.

Truth be told, he didn’t want to leave just yet. He was using her as an excuse, or maybe she was the reason why. Joy and lust were new emotions to him, he wanted to experience them, and he knew he could only do it with her as a guide. He was tired of fighting it. He was tired of denying himself what he craved.

He decided to stay.


	12. All These Things That I've Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.  
The name of the song is I Think We're Alone Now by Tiffany

_“I will love the light for it shows me_   
_the way, yet I will endure the darkness because_   
_it shows me the stars.”_   
_-Og Mandino_

* * *

She was allowed to go home the next day, and she basked in the sunlight that streamed through the window of her bedroom. Even though she had been ordered to rest for a couple of days, she still worked. She did paperwork on her dining table and checked her emails while cooking. She had tried not to think about the visions that caused her to plummet into the ground in the first place. They made no sense, and she knew it wouldn’t do her any good to destroy her brain trying to come up with answers. She didn’t have enough information to even come up with a hypothesis.

And while she was displeased at the fact that she was on lockdown, the fact that Robert had insisted she shouldn’t be alone and that he should stay with her, wasn’t entirely bad. Having learned from her mistakes, she had bought a sofa bed, so he didn’t have to sleep in an uncomfortable position. She had insisted he take the bed, but he had refused.

Only one day had gone by, but she was already looking forward to seeing him again. He disappeared during the day, claiming duty called. He couldn’t reveal the details of his work, and she wondered, what kind of person would need a PI in Derry. She considered hiring his services just for fun, simply to annoy him a little bit. Come to think of it, she had never had the need for a PI. If she needed to find out something about a person, she would investigate herself. But she supposed that private investigators had tools and ways that she didn’t. Maybe she would consider hiring one next time she needed to find some dirt on the competition. She laughed at that.

The words echoed in her head, though. What had the voice meant when it said it wasn’t ready yet and that she had taken its place? Was she the unknowing sacrificial lamb of a cult? Could the visions have been a product of drugs? She didn’t think so. They had seemed too vivid, too…real. As if she had truly been there. She could still feel the roughness of the place she had been trapped in under her fingertips. She could still feel the warm, gooey liquid running down her face and arms. She hadn’t been able to see nor speak.

She pushed it to the back of her mind, focusing on what still made sense. And that was…nothing.

“Ah, fuck it, it’s been a while.” She said to herself, pushing herself up from her bed and heading into her living room, approaching the small potted plant next to her TV. She pulled out the fake plant and dirt, reaching for the bottom. Once her fingers grazed the small metal box, she let out a triumphant _whoop_.

Rob wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours, so she decided it was a good a time as any. She rolled a joint, practically vibrating with excitement. It had been so long since she had last smoked. She considered pairing it with a little bit of alcohol, turn things up a little bit. She settled, going into the kitchen a pulling out a bottle of expensive whiskey. She danced her way back to the couch, and turned on her TV, playing a music video in the background, making sure it was on repeat.

She lit the joint and brought it to her lips. The familiar aroma reminded her of her university years. She had smoked occasionally, to help with stress, but that had been it. She hadn’t been too much of a party girl, but she had loved to frequent expensive, thematic lounges. Some of the business associates she had in the present were old friends she had met at those places. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she had flirted with them when she first met them, trying to sharpen her seduction skills. She could be a femme fatale when she wanted, or at least, she thought that much.

She inhaled the smoke, holding it in her mouth for a moment to avoid coughing, removed the joint, and took a deep breath. With the joint between her fingers, and careful not to ruin Rob’s new bed, she opened the bottle and took a swing. She laughed, delighted at the effects of the drug on her system.

Halfway through her joint and drinking, her clothes began sticking to her skin. She was sweating, the room suddenly feeling hot. She risked a glance at the clock on her wall and shrugged. She still had time. Or so she thought, since she hadn’t payed attention to the numbers displayed. So, she carefully took off her pants, trying not to drop anything. She threw them blindly without paying attention to where they landed.

“Alright, alright. But what if…weed makes me understand these visions?” She asked, talking to the fake potted plant. “You’re right. Maybe I should just dance.”

For the plant to talk back to her was physically and objectively impossible, but she didn’t really care. It was a pretentious looking plant, anyway. Instead, she stood up, with the joint in one hand and the bottle on the other; and began dancing, not caring about the fact that the same song had been on a loop for the last half hour. She let her hair loose, shaking her head and hips along to the music.

She started singing along to the lyrics, using the bottle as a microphone. She wasn’t certain whether her downstairs neighbours could hear her, but she whole-heartedly invited them to fuck themselves. She was having fun on her own, a nice change from her usual stick-up-my-ass attitude. It wasn’t her fault, she reasoned, since she had a reputation to maintain. Whatever she did reflected on Sinclair International. So, if she was smoking weed and drinking in her underwear…she didn’t even want to think about it.

Her dancing wasn’t even sexy at that point. She laughed, thinking that she probably looked straight out of the _Queer Eye _introduction sequence. Freedom didn’t come easily to her; she was so used to being in control. Rob – the attractive devil – made her feel free, as if she wasn’t in control, but in a good way. She began imitating a choreography she had tried to learn when she was fifteen, but it came out rusty, so she simply settled for dancing however she wanted, not caring whether it was sexy or if it made sense.

“My, my…what do we have here?” She heard a voice say. She stopped dead in her tracks, dropping her joint to the floor and cursing. She placed the bottle on the coffee table and paused the music. “Oh, please, don’t stop, I’m having the time of my life.”

She turned to face Rob, like a deer caught in headlights. He was holding back a laugh as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed against his chest.

“You’re home early.” She pointed out, blushing and tucking a strand of rebellious, tangled hair behind her ear.

He couldn’t help himself, laughing as he walked to her. He trapped her face between his hands, squeezing her cheeks playfully.

“Aren’t you a party animal?” He teased, taking the bottle from her hands and downing what was left of it. “Well…shall we dance then?” He asked, taking off his shoes.

She could feel her embarrassment melt away, replaced with excitement. Rob was one of a kind, alright. She smirked, lighting another joint and placing it against his lips. He shook his head, chuckling, taking it from her and inhaling a considerable amount of smoke. She stared at him with her mouth wide open, amazed at his action.

“I’m not sure anymore.” She teased, poking him in the chest.

“What? Did you really think you’re the only one who knows how to have fun?” He replied, taking off his shirt and pants to emphasize his point.

She wasn’t sure what came over him, but she really didn’t mind. The view he provided was good enough for her. She held her index finger up, signalling for him to wait. She stood on her tippy toes, ruffling his hair. She laughed when she realized it only made him more attractive. He would be the death of her, she just knew it.

They danced, and they laughed. She could barely register a time when she had felt that happy. If she thought she wasn’t dancing sexily, she could barely contain her laughter at the moves he pulled to entertain her.

“I’m going to go full _Dirty Dancing _on your arse.” She joked, throwing her hands in the air.

He laughed. “Do it!” He exclaimed, taking a few steps back and gesturing for her to jump into his arms, a giant grin painted on his face.

“Are you serious?” She asked, unsure as she cleaned her hands on her shirt.

“I can take it, go on.” He urged.

“If you drop me, you’re taking me back to the hospital.” She warned, getting ready to run into his arms. She hesitated. “Promise you won’t let go of me?”

To anyone, those words would’ve been completely innocent. But in his mind, they held a double meaning. His response was immediate and truthful.

“I promise.”

She nodded, and ran to him, jumping when his hands caught her. He lifted her effortlessly above his head. She was amazed at the strength in his arms, at the muscle that defined clearly in every piece of clothing he wore.

Until he tripped, and they both came crashing down into the floor, with her on top of him. They both groaned in pain, but it turned into laughter soon enough. Just as the beginning of the chorus played, she lifted her head from his chest to look at him. He was sporting an equally dopey grin on his face and she felt her heart melt at the sight. She smiled back, caging him between her arms.

Their gazes slowly changed from joy into something else. Something she could feel clearly pooling between her legs. She wanted him so bad, but she didn’t want to push it. She didn’t want to force him into kissing her and then having him run away.

“Can I kiss you?” He suddenly asked, placing his hand in the back of her neck.

“Yes.”

He brought her lips to his, relishing in the connection. He kissed her slowly and gently at first, almost as if he was simply testing the waters. But she let out a soft moan, and that threw his self-control out the window. Robert flipped them over, his kisses turning passionate and hungry. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her, trying to get the friction she desperately needed. He bit her lip harshly, drawing blood. She gasped, but he quickly silenced her by licking the blood from her lips.

He pressed his hips against hers, moving with the rhythm of his kisses. She dug her nails into his scalp, urging him to go faster. She wanted all of him. She desperately wanted to have him. He lifted her shirt, touching the skin of her abdomen and letting his hand rest there. He stopped, breaking the kiss and leaning his forehead against hers.

“Eudaimonia, we’re drunk.” He stated, kissing her chastely. He had tried the forbidden fruit, now he couldn’t get enough of it.

She stopped, thinking for a second if she truly wanted her first time with him to be while drunk. She was no blushing virgin, but she knew how alcohol would affect them if they had sex under the influence of it. She nodded; her arms still wrapped around his neck.

“Then let’s just keep doing this.” She answered, kissing him again. And again. And again.

In the background, she could hear the chorus of the song once again, smiling at how perfectly it matched what she felt in that moment. 

_I think we're alone now  
There doesn't seem to be anyone around  
I think we're alone now  
The beating of our hearts is the only sound_


	13. Never Wanted to Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Exploring the unknown requires_  
_ tolerating uncertainty.”_  
_ -Brian Greene_

* * *

Sleep didn’t come to him easy that night, wrapped in the covers of her bed and her warm body against him. He had stopped her, not because they had been drunk, but because he knew it would be to cross the Rubicon. He hadn’t been drunk nor drugged, such things made no effect on him. He allowed himself to let loose in human fashion, he had faked some of it until he began enjoying himself. Joy had invaded his system once again, blinding him to his boundaries, letting every inhibition drown in the pool of logical reasoning he had once swum in. His handmade ego was coming apart at the seams with every smile she flashed him.

He was accustomed to instilling fear among people, not bringing them joy. Even rarer, he wasn’t used to feeling joy. It was such an unknown emotion, that he had thought he had been dying. He had felt energized, his human heart had beat erratically, he had barely been able to contain his laughter. And not the fake, bone-chilling one he was used to imitate, but a genuine one.

He had given in. He had kissed her; he had allowed himself to bask in the carnal pleasure she provided. If they had kept on going, there would’ve been no turning back. He knew that much. He would’ve marked her as his, she would’ve belonged to him whether she wanted or not. She would’ve been his, and his alone. He would’ve been the only one to touch and kiss her for the rest of her life. And even if she managed to leave Derry, he would haunt her. Every melody, every drink, every feeling of skin against skin would be an agonizing reminder of him. He would make sure she wouldn’t be able to forget him.

He was no fool, either. He had noticed the way she had looked at him, equally consumed with lust. He had asked himself if he could kiss her, not her. But she had naturally assumed the question had been meant for her. She answered for him, and he feasted on her lips. They hadn’t stopped kissing until her lips were red and puffy. He had been delighted at the sight of her blood-stained lips, dishevelled hair, shirt revealing her slender shoulders and collarbone. He remembered cutting her skin open and getting intoxicated with the aroma of her sweet, hot blood.

She stirred in her sleep, turning her back to him. He remained quiet and serious, staring at the curve of her hips. She was a beautiful woman. There had to be something truly special about her to be able to evoke emotions from him. There had to be something truly powerful about her to protect her from him. He had never encountered such a fascinating piece of art. Because to him, that’s what she had become. A piece of art meant to be interpreted, to be glorified.

Delicately, he ran his fingers in a repetitive motion up and down her hips. He liked how warm she was, how soft. He didn’t know whether he wanted to eat her or fuck her anymore. His hunger was gone. He realized it as he gripped her gently, careful not to wake her. His eyes were proudly displaying the colour of his deadlights. Golden against ivory skin and white hair. He was committing her skin to memory, even though he had no reason to. His treacherous memory, then, pointed out to him that he wasn’t the only being who watched her with such admiration and lust. He had seen countless men and women eyeing her, devouring her with nothing but their gazes.

A possessive nature had awoken inside of him, instinct screaming at him restlessly to protect his potential mate. But could she really be his mate? There was no chance that they could produce offspring; the birth would kill her if the pregnancy didn’t. Only an equal could produce an heir, and his only equal had been a male. An interdimensional entity such as him. An old, slow, lazy and stupid turtle who used to call him brother.

He remembered Maturin, his counterpart. The other side of the same coin. While It was the definition of consumption, power and destruction; Maturin had been the personification of life. The turtle had been kind, gentle, compassionate and…stupid. He had hated the turtle with all his being, and he had been relieved at his passing. Once the turtle had died, there had been nothing to hold him back. He could’ve gone off and consumed each galaxy and universe, destroyed everything Maturin had created, erased the evidence of his existence. But he hadn’t, simply because he – despite having trouble admitting it – enjoyed what his equal had vomited out. He remembered cackling in amusement at the turtle’s stomach-ache and subsequent violent vomiting of an entire universe. The turtle had laughed along with him, much to his dismay, and retreated into his shell.

So, when the word _brother_ echoed in his vision, he had been filled with dread. The turtle was still dead, no trace left of it, not even its corpse. He would’ve been able to feel Maturin’s presence if he had come back to life.

He grimaced, thinking about how Maturin would’ve reacted to him experimenting human emotions. Not only was he experiencing them, he was enjoying them and he greedily desired more. He desired to experience every emotion, to experience what drove humans mad. He was disgusted at himself for allowing such thoughts to poison his mind, but he had long stopped caring. From the moment his lips connected to Eudaimonia’s, he had decided he would rather go mad along with her than reason any longer. Valuing what he was experiencing was better than letting it vanish. He would dote with reason his desires if needed.

The colours of how this would end were unclear to him, even the colours that painted the night gave no answers. He wondered where he had ended up, telling himself he would only be able to live this once.

“Hey, are you okay?” He heard Eudaimonia ask groggily, her body turned to him. He hadn’t noticed her waking up, for he had been too absorbed in his remembrance and unmotivated reasoning. His eyes returned to their natural aquamarine tone, concealing his identity from her.

“Hey, there.” He whispered, turning on his side to look at her. “I’m okay, just a little trouble sleeping.” He confessed, running his fingers through her hair.

She nodded, getting up and walking to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. He had watched how deliciously her hips had moved as she walked, and he felt his desire rising. He kept his vision focused on the door, just waiting for her to come out.

He had amazed himself at the amount of gentleness he was capable of showing when he was around her. It came naturally, and that bothered the blood lusting side of him. It was like he was trying not to scare her anymore. He compensated by being gentle and caring, by treating her like one would treat…a mate. He groaned in frustration, aware that nothing could come out of making her his. But he knew his patience was limited, so was his self-control. He would eventually snap and take her. The pheromones around her were powerful, they clouded his mind with instinct and drove him wild.

She returned, crawling into his arms, and placing her head on his chest. He could smell the minty scent that came from her, indicating she had brushed her teeth. It was not daytime yet. He glanced at the clock on her nightstand, and raised an eyebrow, pressing a kiss to her head.

“It’s still early, you should go back to sleep.” He said softly, trying not to perturb whatever sleepiness she still had in her system.

“It would be terrible of me to leave you to fend for yourself when you can’t sleep.” She countered, drawing circles on his skin with her finger.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” He asked, running his fingers up and down her arm.

She climbed on top of him, pressing herself against him, particularly hard where she wanted him the most. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, trying to contain himself. When he felt her lips against his, he decided a little bit of self-control could be damned. Not all of it, just enough to enjoy kissing her senseless.

Flipping them over so he was on top, he reached for both of her wrists, trapping them above her head with one hand. She chuckled, wrapping her legs around his hips, pushing him against her. She began moving, teasing him. Letting out a soft growl, he attacked her lips with a desperate need. Each kiss was filled with desire, until it turned into desire itself. Every brush of their skin against the fabrics that separated them, every bit of friction, it was all leading them down a dangerous path. Her movements became harder, faster. For fuck’s sake, she was dry humping him and he was loving every second of it. How could something so wrong feel so good?

“Ah, fuck it.” He whispered against her lips, slipping his hand in her underwear and finding her already waiting for him eagerly. The warm natural lubrication her body produced told him she wanted it as much as him.

He teased her, rubbing her and drawing patterns on her. She was moaning into his mouth, and he decided he wanted to listen to her scream his name. He wouldn’t go any further than this for now, he promised himself. He just wanted to make her come undone. Just for him, only for him. It was a way of thanking her for introducing him into human madness.

He let go of her wrists, tearing her underwear. The delicate piece of fabric ripped easily, and he heard her gasp with indignation at the sound, but it was soon replaced with mewls of pleasure as he slipped a digit inside of her. His human fingers were long, he knew it would be enough to please her. He had watched her touch herself; he knew exactly what he had to do to make her scream. He knew how she liked it.

Soon enough, she turned into a moaning mess underneath him, bucking her hips against his hand to relieve herself. Her eyes were closed in ecstasy, her head turned to the side, offering him a beautiful view of her jugular. Her hair was splayed around her head, like a halo surrounding her. He knew his eyes were no longer blue, they had turned golden, and they were making sure he wouldn’t forget a thing about her.

“Ah, fuck, Robert!” She screamed, digging her nails into his back, drawing blood. He hissed in pleasure, surprised at how painfully delicious it felt. 

So, he felt her clench around him, impossibly wetter. He enjoyed the way her back arched and her mouth opened in a silent moan. He had done that to her. He pulled out his finger, licking her arousal from them. He closed his eyes, willing them to go back to their aquamarine colour. The taste of her on his tongue was sweet, saccharine, like the rest of her.

He lifted himself from her, laying down next to her. She was still catching her breath, her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath that left her lips.

“Robert, that was…so good. No one has ever been able to make me cum so fast.” She said, pushing herself up with her elbows.

“I aim to please, sweet dove.” He winked at her, giving her a soft kiss.

She smiled wickedly.

“Ah, ah, ah. Not tonight. We should go back to sleep.” He said, shaking his finger at her.

She pouted and made a move to stand.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“You ruined my underwear. I need to put on another pair.” She explained, almost at the edge of the bed.

He reached for her, pulling her back. She squealed in delight, laughing at his actions. He buried his face in her neck, peppering her skin with butterfly kisses.

“Of course not. You’re fine like that.” He claimed, laying her back down on the bed and trapping her in his embrace.

“This is bullshit.” She answered, laughing. “Let me go.”

“No.” Robert tightened his hold on her. She sighed and gave in, relaxing in his embrace.

Soon, sleep took them both.


	14. Tobacco & Chanel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“I think of a hero as someone who understands_  
the degree of responsibility that comes with his freedom.”  
-Bob Dylan

* * *

She sat on a small meadow, feeling how the wind swept past her, making the flowers around her dance. Row after row of colourful creations of nature, the very emblem of beauty, delicacy and art. Each petal contained a small fragment of time, evidence to the power of life itself. And yet, such small and delicate flowers held the weight of meaning, the true root of nature. It didn’t matter how many times it was beaten down; it would always rise. Nature would always find a way. Running her fingers through the grass, she felt the sting it left behind, a reminder of both its beauty and danger.

She had agreed to meet up with Rob after work so they could go somewhere together. At first, she had assumed it would be to have dinner, but she was proven wrong when he told her to meet him at the meadow near the quarry. She had been confused, and had reluctantly agreed, but she didn’t regret it. The sun would begin to set in an hour or so, taking the fatigue of the day away and bringing the calm of night.

Earlier in the day, she had received a call from her assistant, asking about the progress of the hotel. She hadn’t thought much of it, until she heard the nervous tapping at the other end of the line. Her assistant had hesitated, claiming it could wait, but she pressed him for answers either way.

There was a company who was interested in doing a market campaign with Sinclair International, and they wanted to host an event. It turned out, they were powerful entities in their respective fields, which caused Eudaimonia to consider the offer. The catch was, however, that she would have to return to the city for a few days for a meeting and to attend the event. She agreed, asking her assistant to relay her answer and the message that details would be further discussed through email and phone calls, since she couldn’t meet them in person.

It was a painful reminder that she would eventually have to go back. She understood now why her father had loved Derry so much, why he had insisted on building a hotel in the small town. She saw the touristic potential, it just needed to be used properly. If she wanted her hotel to be a success, she would need to talk to the mayor about fixing some places up and turning them into tourist traps. The town had an interesting story, interesting enough to attract ghost and myth hunters.

Growing fond of the town hadn’t been too hard. She knew most people, from the owners of the local bakery to the old lady who sat on a bench in the park on Sundays just to watch people walk by. She could make Derry her home, but she really needed something to hold her down. The hotel was not good enough, her HQ was in the city. She knew what she was pinning after, but she didn’t want to admit it. Robert was the biggest reason she wanted to stay. He was the reason she found herself staring longingly at married couples walking by with their children.

She was an independent woman, a business tycoon, one of the most powerful women in the world – according to Forbes magazine – and there was nothing she couldn’t get if she set her mind to it. She had considered marrying and having children at one point in her life, because she needed an heir to Sinclair Industries once she was too old to run it. The success of the hotel chain came from the fact that it had been a family business for decades. They owned a couple of islands, private resorts for the elite. She knew she needed to have children. It had seemed like a responsibility at first, but it turned into something else as she found herself falling in love with the private investigator of Derry.

Since she woke up in the hospital, wrapped up in his arms, she had known. Since he danced along with her to the same song she had had on a loop, she had known. From the moment they kissed, she had known. And now, as she sat on a meadow full of flowers she couldn’t name, she knew she was falling for him. It was strange, she felt as if she knew nothing about him, yet it felt as if she had known him forever.

“Hello, sweet dove.” She heard the owner of her thoughts say behind her. She stood up, turning to face him.

There he stood, with a picnic basket on his hands, and she thought she couldn’t fall any deeper in love for him. No man had ever treated her like he did, with such tentativeness, such desire to solve her as if she were an enigma. No man had ever felt the way he felt.

They ate all sorts of pastries. He remembered her saying she could eat dessert for the rest of her life, and she’d die a happy woman. She smiled, merely enjoying his company. The fact that she would have to return to the city crossed her mind and her face dropped. He noticed that, and he tilted her chin up with his thumb gently.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concern etched in his voice.

He felt it, then. Fear. Delicious, salty fear. Fear that satisfied him when he was famished. It was a small amount, not even enough to salt the meat he used to love, but it was there, in her system. But it didn’t feel right. Not on her. On her…it was bitter, harsh, painful and cold. Fear on her made him feel uncomfortable, ill beyond his imagination. He recognized the feeling, having felt it himself when the Loser’s Club brought him down, and he hated the way it vibrated off her.

“No, Rob, I am not.” She stated, looking at the sun setting.

“Care to share?” He questioned, placing his hand on top of hers and squeezing it. She gifted him a small smile.

“My hotel will be done in a few months. I’ve been asked to return to the city for a few days and it got me thinking…what happens afterwards? Do I leave and never see you again? Do you come with me? We’re not…we’re not even in a formal relationship, love. I’m not trying to pressure you, believe me, but it is in the back of my mind.” She concluded, locking her gaze with his.

A shadow crossed his eyes, and she noticed the way his eyes darkened, the way he tensed and the way he squeezed her hand harder than necessary. The way his lips formed into a thin line as he pressed them together.

“You can’t leave me.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, I can, Rob. We can both leave.” She replied, slowly freeing her hand from his hold.

“No, we can’t. You are mine, Eudaimonia. You can’t leave me.” He repeated, closing his eyes to calm himself down.

There was something dark about the way he spoke. Something that she had never felt in him. It was dark, primitive and possessive. She could smell the danger on him, so she knew she would have to choose her next words carefully.

“Darling…I don’t belong to you, and you do not belong to me. I’m not leaving yet, I promise. But there is nothing holding me down on Derry once my hotel is finished. Nothing but you.” She elaborated, placing her hands on either side of his face.

She could feel the tension leave his body, and he calmed down little by little. When he opened his eyes once again, she could’ve sworn they were golden. But she blinked, and they were back to their aquamarine colour.

“Then be mine, dove. Say you’ll be mine.” He ordered, placing his hands over her own and leaning his forehead against hers.

“I am yours.”

“Good.”

He laid her down, kissing her with passion, holding on to her as if he never wanted to let go. She held him with the same intensity, loving the way his lips perfectly melted into hers. An idea crossed her mind.

“Wait.” She said between kisses, trying to push him away. He shook his head, forcing his mouth on hers to shut her up. She laughed, kissing him back with the same vigour. Once his kisses became more chaste, she tried again. “There is a quarry here, correct?”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. She stood up, packing everything into the picnic basket as quickly as she could and standing up. He merely observed her, trying to determine what she was doing.

“Come, I want to see it.” Offering her hand for him to take, she pulled him up.

The quarry was dark, the only thing that provided some semblance of light was the moon and the stars. In Derry, they seemed to shine brighter than on anywhere else.

There was a sign, warning people not to jump or throw trash. She ignored it, walking to the border of the seemingly endless cliff and looking down. Rob placed the picnic basket on the ground, and walked to her.

“What are you planning on doing?” He asked.

She grinned at him as she took off her clothes, leaving only her lacy pink underwear.

“I’m going to wash off the smell of Chanel off my body and replace it with dirty, lake water.” She joked, stretching. “Care to join me?”

He chuckled, taking everything but his underwear off.

“You do realize we won’t be able to see down there?” He questioned, standing behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders to prevent her from falling.

“Then I guess I’ll get eaten by the lake monster.”

“You most certainly will.” He stated, wrapping his arms around her and jumping off the cliff.

He could hear her yell and curse at him, but he didn’t really care. She would be safe if she was with him. He would keep her safe and away from lake monsters. After all, he was the only monster around that ate people.

He felt the cold water hit his body cruelly, and he could only imagine what Eudaimonia was thinking as she rose to the surface and started cursing at him. He laughed, splashing her with the intention to anger her further. She squealed, claiming the water was freezing and that she regretted her decision. She held onto him for dear life.

“I can’t see shite. Bloody hell, I’m an idiot.” She whispered, trembling from the cold.

Little by little, small fireflies lit up on the walls of the cliff. She gasped, wonder filling her eyes and amazement inked into her face. He took a risk doing that, knowing she would appreciate it. He was proud of how lovely it looked, especially when it was reflected on her eyes.

“It’s beautiful…” She whispered, running a hand through her wet locks to prevent them from blocking out her vision.

“Yes, you are.” He said.

She burst out laughing, pulling him in for a hug and wrapping her legs around his hips so she wouldn’t float away. The water was still freezing, but she was loving every second of it.

“My nipples are so hard that if I touch them, they will break. Believe me, I look anything but beautiful.” She laughed. “You’re such a dork.”

He said nothing, only returned the smile.

And they kissed, not under the light of the moon, but under the soft glow of a thousand fireflies illuminating both their surroundings and hearts.


	15. Ghost of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.  
I apologize for only posting one chapter today, I'm afraid graduating requires investing time in studying.

_“A people without the knowledge of their_  
past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots.”  
-Marcus Garvey

* * *

He had destroyed the sewers, only to watch them build themselves back before his eyes. Not only had something changed the area, but it had left its influence lingering in it. There was no being in the mortal realm who was as powerful as him, as capable of controlling and manipulating reality like him. He watched as the broken pieces floated upwards, in the shape of what resembled burnt paper, returning to their original place. The concept wasn’t unfamiliar to him, his own wounds healed that way. His blood defied gravity, he defied the laws that ruled the creatures who shared the land with him, only by the grace of his need for food.

But something had changed within the sewers. There had been nothing to indicate who or what had done it, and he hadn’t found any trace of power but his own. It led him to think he had been the one to perpetrate them, however unlikely it seemed. However unreasonable it sounded to him, for he had always been in control of the capacity he allowed himself to use. But if there had been no essence, no trail leading to something or someone, no evidence of tempering but the cleaning itself; then he had to be the reason behind the change.

He remembered the key rule of deduction, according to the pages of a book he had read in Eudaimonia’s apartment. Once the impossible has been eliminated, whatever remains, however irrational, must therefore be the truth. He had no memory of it, and no matter how much time passed, he remembered most of his life. From the beginning of the Macroverse to his settlement in what later became Derry. He remembered his victims, remembered how they screamed in pain, how their blood had run down his mouth. He remembered young Georgie, the prey that had begun the domino effect that eventually brought him down and sent him into early rest.

But he couldn’t recall making his dismal collection of souvenirs disappear. He couldn’t recall ever forcing the grime from the walls to disappear, ever removing the contaminating factors that made the water from the sewers smell horribly. He hadn’t cared for it, never really minded how easily he adapted to the poor conditions of the sewers. The smell didn’t stick to him, it didn’t favour him. And now that he hung around Eudaimonia, he didn’t want it to follow him around.

His hunger was truly and inexorably gone. He had tried to feast on a small child, but not even the taste of fear had been enough for him. He hadn’t been able to swallow the flesh before spitting it out. He had set the body on fire and retreated into the structure that kept his deadlights safe, away from the prying eyes of humans. It wasn’t like they could even touch them. No mortal being was ever able to look at them for longer than a second without losing their sanity. Beverly Marsh had escaped, but not entirely unscathed. He plagued her dreams, he constantly drowned her in nightmares of death. He had shown her how they would die, how they would suffer. _How they would float. _

He wondered, playing with the pom poms of his clown suit, if the changes had happened as a reflection of his situation. Bloodlust, playfulness, possessiveness, charm. Those were the adjectives that defined the very core of his personality. He hadn’t changed, at least, not in the ways that mattered to him. His strength, his influence, his invincibility, his power; they all remained the same. He had not changed.

With a flick of his wrist, a mirror appeared before him, and he stood to view himself in it. Pennywise looked back at him. The formerly white suit had received the beating of time, the orange hair that had once been one of the main focal points of his appearance was unkempt. His face, inked with the face paint he had used from the moment he chose the clown as his favourite form, turned into a frown. Somehow, he didn’t favour Pennywise anymore. A snarl formed in his mouth, proudly displaying row after row of sharpened teeth. He recognized himself, but it wasn’t him.

In the background, he could see how the polished walls glistened, displaying their pureness for him to see. With an uncharacteristic sigh, he morphed into his human form. He came to realize, then, he favoured Robert Gray over Pennywise. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he felt as if he could do more in Gray’s form. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Robert Gray had been the body he had been using when he first experienced joy and lust. Robert Gray was the one who could touch every inch of the woman he desired and not scare her away. Robert Gray enjoyed himself.

Pennywise terrified anyone who came into contact with him. He was dirty and a reflection of the anger he had always felt. The very personification of the shadow to his self. A facsimile to his internal raging storm. Such a perfect being of light had created its own unconceivable foe, the hatred inside of himself. The salient representation of the monster he thought he was.

“Wait…that’s it.” He said, the voice of Pennywise escaping the lips of Robert.

He didn’t feel like a monster anymore. He had begun intertwining with humans, he had begun to see them as something more than food. Such anachronic fashions didn’t quite sit well with him, not when he thought of the woman who was waiting at home for him. Little by little, with each night and day he had spent in that small apartment, the sewers were not his usual haven anymore, they didn’t feel as welcoming as they had used to.

His hunger had disappeared, his need to feed was null. His bloodlust was also gone. He didn’t feel like himself, but it didn’t bother him. His deadlights resided in deeper within the sewers, they reflected his every thought and emotion. In a Dorian Gray way, the sewers represented his state. He didn’t know which state yet, but he knew they represented one of them.

Every act of violence, every souvenir, every ghoul, every drop of blood, they were gone. Along with the fact that he didn’t view himself as a monster anymore. How had the edge of time affected him? He had been born as the incarnation of evil, consumption and destruction, and somewhere along the way, instead of bending that idea, he had broken down. He had internalized what he represented and ended up becoming the words that had been bestowed upon him. He could’ve simply done what he was supposed to, played his role, and lived as the personality he could’ve worked on.

Instead he had chosen to let it consume him, he had allowed the fact that he couldn’t create – only destroy – become the core motivator for his actions. He had allowed the evil within to take control. It got him thinking why he had chosen the clown as his favourite form. He remembered thinking it was because everyone loved a clown. Had that been it? Had he been so desperate for affection? He was not a creature of affection; he had thought himself above it, he had believed it was only for humans.

Maturin’s words echoed in his head, mocking him.

_“You may think we’re the most powerful beings, brother, but love is the strongest power in the entire universe. Love just is.” _

Love. He had craved it after many years of loneliness on Earth, yet he had never had the motivation or awareness to recognize it. The sewers reflected what he had become. He wasn’t certain of what it was, not anymore. But he was certain about the fact that he liked how it felt. The chaos in his mind was no longer the same it had been. Among every possibility, he craved for nothing more than company.

He considered, then, if it made him weak. How could the strongest power in the universe make him weak? He didn’t love. He didn’t know how to love, for he had never loved anything. He knew Maturin had loved him, despite how cruel he had been to the turtle. His hatred, his envy, had prevented him from ever looking at the turtle with some semblance of recognition or affection. He wasn’t’ sure whether he regretted it or not, but he knew he could’ve used to turtle’s wisdom about it.

The sunlight was beginning to dim, darkness overtaking the vast mantle of the sky. Thinking about everything had been draining, and all he really wanted was to lay down and listen to Eudaimonia talk about whatever she wanted.

It came to his mind, then, the conversation they had had in the meadow. He had felt betrayed, lost, desperate and furious. He had wanted to tie her down and remind her whom she belonged to. She had told him she didn’t belong to him, and that had irked him. How dare she? She was his, and his alone. The very idea of her leaving generated anxiety deep within him. If she left, would he revert to his old ways? Would he be able to feel the emotions she evoked if she left? He had become addicted to the joy she made him feel. He had to give her credit for her capacity to do things to him.

And then, he had asked her to be his. He could’ve just taken her, he knew it. He could’ve just dragged her down the sewers and keep her trapped forever, his prisoner until the end of her days. But he had wanted to hear her say it. He had wanted to know she would be his, that she consented to the exclusivity of his embrace. That once she agreed to be his, there would be an infinite number of unrealized lovers out there, yearning for her. That the only body she would ever pleasure would be his. The only body she’d ever see, and feel inside of her, in the mirror would be his. He’d be the only man to ever share her bed, and he’d kill anyone who dared lay a hand to her, no matter the intention.

With one final look in the mirror, he vanished, leaving his deadlights behind.

Opening the door to her apartment, he was greeted by the aroma of food. He couldn’t place the food, since he wasn’t particularly used to it. His food usually screamed and bled.

“Hey!” She greeted, an apron covering her sleepwear. She had oven gloves protecting her hands from the heat of the circular tray she was holding. “I’m glad you’re here.” She smiled.

“What are you cooking?” He asked, placing a kiss to her head and leaning against the counter.

“I made a pizza, instead of ordering it, and…I baked a pomegranate cake.” She blushed, placing the tray on the island counter.

“You never cease to amaze me.” He simply said, truly meaning it.

Eudaimonia laughed, taking the gloves off. She opened her arms, wiggling her eyebrows. He didn’t understand the message at first, but he chuckled when he finally did. He pulled her into a hug, inhaling the aroma of tomatoes and spices on her hair. It came to him, knowing she could probably have the answers to his question. He didn’t know why he sought to answer it, but he needed to confirm it.

“Who could love a monster?” He asked suddenly. She lifted her head from his chest, looking for any indication as to why he had asked that in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” She questioned.

“Yes, it’s just…for a writing project.” He lied, smiling at her.

She hummed, thinking about it for a moment.

“Only another monster. Only another monster would be able to accept and understand. Any other person would try to change them.” She reasoned.

He nodded, saving the information for later for him to ponder.

“Could you?” His voice was lowered to a whisper.

“What?”

“Could you love a monster?”

“Well…the question should be, could you?” She countered. “Because I am a monster.”

“So am I.”

“Then we’ll get along just fine.”

He lifted her, peppering her face with kisses until she squealed for him to put her down.

Only a monster could love a monster.


	16. Liquid Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“We are made wise not by the recollection_  
_of our past, but by the responsibility for our future.”_  
_ \- George Bernard Shaw_

* * *

She had decided to take a walk around town after checking on her hotel. She had been delighted to find out that the gardens were finished, the only thing left was for the flowers to bloom. Alas, winter was fast approaching, and they wouldn’t get a chance to. She had hired the best gardeners in the city and even some in Derry to make sure her plants didn’t die. Plants, as boring as it had seemed to her classmates back in the day, had been one of her favourite things ever. The way they grew and bested human creation regardless of the circumstances had always been a beacon of hope, a message of determination and persistence for her.

Her feet walked on their own accord and she simply followed. Her mind had been racing with thoughts of the marketing campaign ever since she had begun discussing the details with the company who was interested in her. They had claimed they wanted to use the event not only as a marketing campaign for themselves, but to promote her new hotel. And she had wholeheartedly agreed. She had investigated their business; she had investigated each nook and cranny regarding the owners, nothing could be left to chance when it came to her empire.

Not only was the contract on her mind, but Robert. She had cooked for him and they had watched a horror movie afterwards. He had laughed through it all, claiming he now had new material for later. She had laughed along, asking him to show her his writing when he had the time. He had nodded, nudging her with his arm and pointing to the TV as the climax of the plotline began. Somewhere along the way, they had ended up making out on the settee, sighing and moaning whenever they touched.

_We’ve been dry humping like teenagers! _She cackled, wiping a tear from her eye as she walked. She had her headphones on, so she didn’t have to worry about people thinking she was mad. They could just assume she was talking over the phone with someone.

She gasped, dropping her phone as she felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around her waist and hoisting her up. Once she was back on the ground, she turned to look at whoever had fucking dared to touch her without permission. Instead, she grinned at the sight of Robert kneeling to pick up her phone and hand it to her.

“Hello, you!” She said, taking her phone from his hands gently. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I just finished a case and was on my way to your apartment, but it seems I caught you here.” He explained, a small smile on his lips as he brushed his thumb against her cheek.

“Fantastic. You can join me on my walk, then.” She offered, linking her arm to his and grinning at him. He chuckled and shook his head.

“This is familiar.” He commented as they walked. She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder.

“It certainly is, Mr. Gray.” She teased, kissing his bicep.

They walked for a while, until they came upon a street she didn’t recognize. She read the sign and raised an eyebrow. 29 Neibolt Street. At the end of the street was an abandoned house. It looked as if no one had been there in decades. Not only that, but it desperately needed to be torn down. It was falling apart. An idea popped into her mind and she let go of Rob’s arm, planting herself in front of him with an excited glint in her eyes.

“What?” He asked, placing his hands on his hips. He knew she was up to something; he had spent enough time around her to recognize the playful shimmer that adorned her eyes whenever she wanted to do something stupid or bold. His heart skipped a beat when she pointed to the Well House.

“That is a bloody haunted house if I’ve ever seen one.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him closer to the building.

He froze on the spot, not wanting her to go in there. He pulled her back with as much strength as he could muster without hurting her.

“Dove…as fun as it sounds, that’s not a carnival haunted house. That’s an abandoned house where homeless people and junkies go to sleep.” He tried to reason.

She lifted an eyebrow and turned to face the house. She stood on her tippy toes, trying to make out evidence of anyone being inside of the house. When she found none, she smirked triumphantly.

“I don’t see anyone.” She challenged, placing her hand on her hip and pointing to the house lazily. “It’s clearly empty.”

“Eudaimonia…I do not – “

“Oh, please! I’ll go in alone if I must.” She said, walking towards the gate and pushing it open. 

He gulped and watched as her heeled feet clicked against the pavement. When her feet reached the grass, he had to blink twice to make sure what he was seeing was real. He took a step closer, frowning when he realized it truly was.

Wherever her feet landed, the dead grass sprung back to life. He could see the small flowers rapidly growing underneath her feet and blooming as soon as she took her next step. He had never witnessed such a mysterious thing. It only added to her being an enigma. Once the life that had sprung from her steps was done growing, it started spreading to the rest of the grass slowly. He could see it; like tendrils connecting each step and then parting to reach the rest of the front yard.

Every part of that garden had been dead, rotten. It was impossible.

“Eudaimonia!” He called, reaching a hand to her as he looked down at the grass.

She turned, bumping her fist in the air and grinning.

“Are you coming?” She pressed, a triumphant look in her eyes.

He groaned, trotting up to her and holding her hand as he pushed the door open. He would be back to investigate the grass later. All he could really do in that moment was give in and allow her to inspect to her heart’s content.

_She doesn’t know, she doesn’t know, she doesn’t know. _He repeated in his head, trying to calm the nerves threatening to escape. The place looked the same since the last time he had been in there…and that had been 26 years ago. It amazed him that no one had entered the house in such a long time. Not even while he rested.

Her hand loosened around his and he jerked his head to search for her. She stood right in front of the fireplace, tracing the outline of the fireplace with her fingers. She was silent as she felt the dust and leaf carvings. The sunlight barely streamed through the barricaded windows, so he pulled some of the planks off from a window. The sound brought her attention back to him, and she smiled once the rays of the sun lit up the entire entrance.

He approached her, putting an arm around her shoulders protectively.

“What does it say?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“You’ll float too.” She answered, scrunching her nose at the smell of rotting wood and who knew what else. The sentence was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Who do you think lived here?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me? Make something up.” He encouraged, pulling her closer as they stood in front of the fireplace. She laughed, walking to the living room.

“Very well. Here lived Mr. and Mrs. Haden. He was a soldier and she was a nurse. During the war…they met when he got injured. And they fell in love, so they got married and moved to Derry. She came from a wealthy family, so they helped them buy the house.” She began, walking into the kitchen with him trailing behind her.

She ran her fingers through the old stove and raised an eyebrow at the broken table. He simply pretended like he didn’t know what had happened in that kitchen. Yet he could still hear Eddie’s screams of fear and the sound of his arm breaking. He smiled.

“She loved to cook.” Her voice lowered to a whisper, a nostalgic tone lacing every edge of it. “And he would read the newspaper every morning while he listened to her talk about her plans for the day.”

She kept walking, gripping the handle of the small refrigerator and opening it to peek inside.

“He loved to have bacon and eggs in the morning, with a side of beans. He claimed they kept him strong.” She chuckled, closing the fridge and walking back to the entrance, where she looked up at the stairs.

“They had two boys. And every day…they would run down the stairs without their shoes on. Mr. Haden would laugh as he watched them play and fight, while Mrs. Haden glared at him.” She continued, a faraway look in her eyes.

Robert kept silent through her story, with his hands in his pockets.

“Every Christmas, they would host a big party and invite every person in town. People would dance and drink. They would hang lanterns in the backyard so the kids could play outside in the snow. Mr. Haden would play guitar for his guests and Mrs. Haden would play the piano.”

She started going up the stairs, her hand caressing the railing. The wood creaked and groaned underneath her weight, and even more so when he followed her.

“They would kiss their children goodnight and then go to bed, where they would make love.” She continued, peeking inside each room but never entering them.

She stayed silent until they reached the nursery. Unlike the rest of the upper level, she entered the room and looked around. He couldn’t read her, so he didn’t know what was going on inside of her head for her to say nothing.

She walked to the crib in the middle of the room and placed both of her hands on it.

“I want that.” She whispered, staring at the empty crib. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge harder. “I really want that.”

He walked to her slowly, hugging her from behind and kissing her head. He couldn’t understand and he wanted to ask, but he chose to keep quiet instead, waiting for her to explain herself. He placed his hand over hers and softly massaged it until she let go of the ancient crib.

“I will never have that, you know?” She murmured, closing her eyes.

“What, dove?” He asked, kissing her shoulder.

“Children.” She opened her eyes and let go of the crib entirely, wrapping her arms around her middle. “I’m barren.”

His eyes widened at the confession and he had to supress a gasp.

“I can’t get pregnant.”

“Are you sure?” He questioned, although he felt as if he shouldn’t intrude any further. Curiosity got the best of him.

“I’ve checked with every OB-GYN out there. I’m sterile.” She whispered, resting her head against his chest as they both stared at the vile object that had caused her pain.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” She let out a teary chuckle, wiping her eyes. “Should we get out of here?”

“Absolutely.”

On the walk home, she remained unusually quiet. He didn’t speak at all either, digesting the information she had provided. He could, at some level, understand why it upset her. He had never fathered any offspring of his own, but he knew how much humans loved their children. If she desired children, it was understandable that her incapacity to have them made her sad.

Once they entered her flat, Robert pulled her to him and began unbuttoning her red dress shirt.

“What are you doing?” She asked, giggling.

He leaned in, nipping at her diamond covered earlobe and whispering in her ear.

“Tonight, I’m going to make love to you.”

His mouth curled into a smirk at her surprised expression.


	17. Stripped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Explicit content ahead.  
Enjoy.

_“Sex without love is as hollow and ridiculous_  
as love without sex.”  
\- Hunter S. Thompson

* * *

She wasn’t even certain of how they had ended up on her couch, but she didn’t really give a fuck about it at the moment. His hands were everywhere, her clothes long gone except for her underwear. She had dreamt of this moment for so long that she was practically vibrating with lust and excitement. She had never been so excited about being with someone. His words echoed in her head, the sultry and seductive tone he had used reverberating around her body.

She had been standing between his legs while touching him, when he pulled her down on top of him and captured her lips with his own. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pressing herself against him. There was nowhere in the world where she would rather be than trapped in his embrace. She nipped at his lower lip and gave his hair a tug, trying to urge him on. He shuddered, moaning deep in his throat.

They both knew it was going to happen, and they were equally excited about it.

“Take off your clothes.” He ordered.

She had never been ordered around during sex, so the prospect of losing control in bed was very appealing to her. She stared at him incredulously, though, amazed at the size of the balls of that man for even daring to order the heir and scion of Sinclair International to take of her clothes.

“I said take off your clothes.” He repeated, his voice gruff.

Smiling under his gaze, she began to run her hands up and down her body seductively, teasing him by delaying what he wanted from her. His eyes traced her body hungrily, his gaze full of such intensity that she could’ve mistaken it for a physical touch over her body. Her fingers shook as she unclasped her brassiere, trembling with anticipation and arousal. He focused on her breasts, and she almost felt self-conscious, despite how truly confident she was about her body. He stood up, approaching her slowly until she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eyes.

Rob’s fingers brushed against her cheekbone lightly, his thumb ghosting over her bottom lip. She smirked as she parted her lips and wrapped them around his intrusive finger. He closed his eyes as she sucked on his digit. She let go of him, and his fingers drifted down across her collarbone - where a small scar decorated her skin – and to her breasts. He tweaked her nipple between his wet thumb and forefinger, making her gasp and lean into his touch, needing him everywhere at once.

“Robert…” She moaned digging her nails into his back, drawing blood.

He hissed at the pain, roughly picking her up and carrying her to her bedroom, where he dropped her on the bed unceremoniously.

He took off his clothes, leaving him as bare as the day he was born. Well…according to her. When her gaze landed on him, she bit her lip. He stood proud, hard and weeping for her. Almost teasingly, he kneeled in front of her, removing what was left of her underwear. She wondered how he would fit inside of her; his size was bigger than anything she’d ever had before.

She couldn’t stand it any longer. He was driving her senses crazy; she was willing to bet he had put a spell on her from the moment they met. His hands were everywhere; her breasts, her legs, her arms, her neck, her hair. She had noticed how they trembled every time he got close to her core. And then, his mouth followed the trail his hands graciously had, which caused her to gasp as he flicked his tongue at her slit, and curled around her throbbing nub. He pushed two long fingers inside of her, making her moan out his name once again. 

She had been staring at it all, but she cursed as he hit a sweet spot inside of her. She fell back against the bed. All she could feel was him, consuming every part of her like a starved animal. He hooked his arms under her thighs, throwing them atop his shoulders as he plunged his tongue inside of her, lapping at every inch of her until she was shivering uncontrollably. She could swear his tongue was impossibly long.

She combed her fingers through his hair and pressed herself to him, riding his face. She whined his name, again and again. He twisted his fingers within her, rubbing at that same spot inside that had her bucking wildly and near screaming as she crested, her arousal gushing out of her. He sipped every drop, his free hand caressing her hipbone, enjoying the sweet taste of her. She felt as if she was on fire, she was burning, and she didn’t want to get out of the flames.

Before she could even hope to begin to catch her breath, he was standing up, rising to kiss her again. She felt him between her legs, then. She could taste herself in his kiss, not caring whether it was vulgar or not. He moved his hips, not quite entering her, but pleasuring himself, nonetheless. His groans made it hard to be patient, she had to stay calm. She wasn’t thinking straight anymore. He gripped her hips and lifted her. Watching his every moment, she was taken aback by his eyes and the sudden softness in them when he looked back at her. She tilted her head to the side and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

“There is no going back from this, dove.” He warned, his voice somehow sweet yet filled with lust. “Do you realize that?”

“I’m yours, Robert.” She whispered, kissing him.

She was, so she allowed him to climb inside of her body and held him captive there. But he knew he would hurt her as soon as he entered her body. He was not human, he could only control so much of his body before he exploded and turned into whatever his body wanted. He was holding back because he didn’t want to rip her in half.

He grimaced as she cried out in pain. She threw her head back and bit her bottom lip. It took every ounce of self-control not to thrust into her hard and fast. He was holding back the animal, the monster. Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging harder into his back. Her eyes filled with tears, and he had to restrain himself from exiting her altogether and apologizing for causing her pain. He remained still for a minute, letting her body get used to his invasion, and when he felt her relax around him; he moved very slowly, relishing the feeling of her hot, wet embrace.

He had never had sex with a human. He had never had sex, period. So, he experimented a little with his movements, the feeling of her so overwhelmingly exquisite that he thought he was drowning in her. Drowning in a sea of bliss. He had never felt happier as he did then. Her legs wrapped around his hips, as she moaned and whimpered beneath him, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her countenance told him exactly what she liked. Her small freckled-covered nose, her chocolate eyes, her white hair sprawled all over the pillow like a halo surrounding her. She was perfection and he was lost in her.

Robert brought his mouth back to hers and pushed his tongue into her mouth in time with the thrusting of his length. That ignited her, as she arched her body up. He felt the contractions of her orgasm to the very surface. He thrust into her faster and harder, lost in her body. He thrust into her once, twice and then, exploded with the force of an erupting volcano, shuddering and groaning, seeing her and only her with the intensity of his climax.

When he came back to himself, he had been drawing the last of the pleasure. Her hands stroked his arms up and down in a loving manner. He couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his face as he nuzzled into her saccharine smelling neck.

He had never experienced such pleasure in his entire, infinite life. Nothing would ever compare to what he had just felt, buried deep inside of her. So lost and gone inside of her that he had considered never coming back. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered, kissing her softly.

“Yes.” She laughed, a gentle, satiated smile on her lips.

He pulled himself out, and she made a little mewling sound that made him chuckle. He knew what he wanted to do every day now. He laid down next to her, careful not to land on her and hurt her with his weight. She instantly curled up against him, a sigh escaping her lips.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” She confessed, drawing imaginary circles on his shoulder.

“So have I.” He stated, his arm wrapping around her.

She laughed, pinching him softly. He raised an eyebrow at her, confusion behind her sudden playfulness.

“Then why did you make me wait for it so long?” She asked.

“Because I…I don’t know.” He answered truthfully. He didn’t know anymore.

“Now that I’ve had a taste of you, I’m going to want more.” She purred seductively, lifting her head and pressing her breasts against him.

He hummed, turning on his side to face her and peppering her face with kisses. She giggled, nuzzling her face in his chest. He always smelled like cotton candy and tangerine.

“Good, because I feel the same.” He whispered, pulling the covers and shielding them from the cold.

“You must be naked at all times inside of my flat now. It’s a rule.” She joked, closing her eyes once more.

“Is it?” He growled, fisting her flesh and drawing a moan out of her, forcing her to open her eyes to stare into his lust filled ones. She loved the colour of his eyes. 

“It will be if you keep that up.” She answered, kissing him and tangling her fingers in his hair. She pulled gently, eliciting a groan from him. 

“Then we better get some sleep.” He answered, kissing her forehead and pulling back, knowing he would take her again if they kept it up.

She laughed, shaking her head and closing her eyes.

Calm settled over them and he watched as her chest slowly rose and fell as she drifted off to sleep. In that moment, he knew she belonged to him. He had a warm feeling in his chest, but he couldn’t identify what it was, and to ruin his night psychoanalysing himself…he would rather enjoy what had happened and fall asleep next to her.

So, he did.


	18. Highlight Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Beauty is an ecstasy; it is as simple as hunger._  
_There is really nothing to be said about it. It is like_  
_ the perfume of a rose: you can smell it_  
_ and that is all.”_  
_ \- W. Somerset Maugham_

* * *

As the sun rose, Eudaimonia was reduced to nothing but an outline. Robert sat up in bed as he attempted to trace her frame with his fingertips – her derriere tucked beneath a thin blanket, her warm legs, her soft stomach, her delicate hair, her exquisite lips. He pressed his thumb to them, just hard enough so that he could feel them part. She had been sleeping for quite some time, he knew. But sleep had eluded him after the first few hours of laying next to her naked frame.

His fingertips stroked across her small nose, past her brows, into her hair. He allowed the locks to slip between his long fingers, not unlike streams of the finest silk. He shuddered as silently as he could, trying not to wake her from her slumber.

Something had changed deep within him from the moment he had entered her, from the moment he marked her as his. He had been able to slip not only into her body, but into her mind. It had been for a fraction of a second, and he hadn’t been able to see much, but he had, however, felt the intensity of her feelings for him. Raw, strong, powerful and consuming. He had experienced joy and lust, but he had not been able to recognize the emotion that had been coursing through her body and mind. It had been every positive emotion he had felt so far, highlighted ten times over. He had felt as if he had been wrapped in nothing but warm light. He had felt morning dew landing on his face, he had felt how the earth trembled beneath him as it burst with life.

He couldn’t quite place the reason why it bothered him. It hadn’t been unpleasant, quite on the contrary, but it had been confusing. He didn’t like not knowing, for he was supposed to be above it all, above humans and their emotions and erratic cognitions. But each day, he found himself recognizing more human qualities in himself. He had understood then, that every emotion he had ever felt, from anger to joy, were all human.

He was not above emotions; Maturin had not been above emotions. And like a tough lesson, the realization of knowing that emotions applied to even the most powerful of beings, had shook him. Anger had made sense to him; it had fed his appetite for control and power. But joy, it had distracted him in the best of ways. It had made him grow careless.

Caring for someone was also new. Not long after she had fallen asleep, her arm wrapped around him and her head resting on the pillow next to his, had he choked on the intensity of caring for her. From every action that drove him to protect her, because she belonged to him and him only, to the way he had been bothered by her pain. Even now, as he laid next to her, tracing her figure, he was careful not to wake her because he wanted her to get some rest. Humanity had begun reaching for him, had begun holding on to his feet, no matter how much he tried to kick it away.

There was something seductive about humans. Something about the philosophic anthropology that defined them that made them so attractive to him. Even the turtle had been fascinated by them. By their language, personalities, individualism. The themes that made them so curious, so delicious for both knowledge and sustenance. Their place in the universe, the human singularity, their will, and their fear of death. There was no death that didn’t generate memory. No death that didn’t leave something to be grasped, to be learned, to be rejoiced behind. Their mortality drove them with an insatiable lust for life, for experience.

They craved experience desperately, to enjoy everything their short spans of life offered. And there, hiding within that desire, hid their tragedy. The desire for more positive experience was itself, a negative experience. And, paradoxically, the acceptance of their negative experiences was itself a positive experience. To humans, merely feeling good about themselves didn’t really mean anything unless they had a good reason to feel good about themselves. They demanded exceptionality while basking in their ubiquitous idiosyncrasies and habits.

So, he wondered, what had been about the naked human woman laying next to him that had been powerful enough to make him feel better in a human body? He discovered he enjoyed the taste of cappuccinos, of the pastries she loved so much, of the salty taste of pizza. He enjoyed the taste of her. Of the arousal that took life between her thighs.

He had marked her; of that he had had no doubt. She was his now, she was his mate. And no matter how much he struggled with it, the deal came with reciprocity, he was hers. He belonged to that white-haired woman. Her mind had opened for him, and he had wasted the opportunity to gaze into what she feared the most and opted to feel what she felt. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He wasn’t hungry anymore; he had no reason to salt her meat with fear. He stayed out of curiosity, out of greed for experience. He stayed because she made him feel like something other than a monster. Little by little, he had started to believe it as well.

His brow furrowed, as he allowed the hand running through her hair to turn into the hand of a monster. She didn’t know what he was. She viewed him as something special and lovely because that was all she knew. That was the reality he had shown her. He hadn’t shown her the bloodlust that ran through his veins, through every inch of his body. He had not shown her the teeth that destroyed both flesh and lives, he had not allowed his eyes to glow golden for her. She didn’t know the monster underneath the beautiful face of Robert Gray.

Only a monster could love another monster. She had said she was a monster, and although he didn’t know in what way she had meant it, he was certain it wasn’t in the same way as him. He was the eater of worlds; she was the eater of pastries. There was a monumental difference he wasn’t sure they’d be able to get past if it was to be revealed. She was human, she wouldn’t be around forever, she wouldn’t remain young forever. And he would live eternally, cursed with the cataclysm of immortality’s immunity to time. She would eventually die from old age. His heart clenched at the thought. How could he hope to live the rest of his days without her company? She was fascinating, nurturing and interesting. She was everything he wasn’t. She was good.

She would be leaving for a few days to her home back in the city. Anxiety had been eating him away since then. What if she never returned? What if that was her excuse to leave him behind forever? He didn’t deserve her, but he owned her as much as she owned him. Their bond had already been created. He would be able to know where she was at all times. She would never be able to hide from him.

It would only be for a couple of days, he told himself. She would return. He had felt the intensity of her emotions for him, he had the certainty of her heart. He would have to let her go if he hoped for her to return. But how could the personification of consumption, of destruction and evil let something he possessed go? He was possessive, he knew it. And yet, there was something about her that let him know he could never hold her down. It was such a nomadic, addicting freedom to her.

The flowers and life that had grown underneath her feet had raised warning signs for every corner of his mind. He had seen something impossible, and he knew that if he were to return, the front yard would be covered in life once again. The sunflowers wouldn’t be the only living thing to the house. It was surreal to see such power manifest itself. Had she been the cause for it? Had she been the one to do it? It didn’t seem likely, for she was human. Or at least, that’s what he thought. Aside from the yard incident, nothing had ever pointed to her being anything but human. Unless…he couldn’t access her mind until just a few hours ago, and it had been for an ephemeral moment. A moment granted only by the connection he had allowed them to have. Could it be that he had been able to access it because he had mated with her? Intimacy, then, had truly been the answer, although not in the way he had thought.

Even if his intentions weren’t to eat her anymore, he was still determined to figure her out. His hand returned to its human shape, with each tendon of skin stitching itself back. He took hold of the blanket and drew it further up as he slipped closer to her. He could smell her. He could smell both of their scents. Sweat, sex, hormones, neurotransmitters. There was the taste of metal on his tongue from where he had bit her. Her blood, her sweet blood, it had done nothing more to him than increase his arousal. He hadn’t felt hungry, he hadn’t had the need to fight for control because he would fucking ravage her.

How could he live without the pleasure she had so willingly provided? He had experienced sex and there was no way he was going to live without it now. Part of him told him that no other person would ever be able to make him feel as good as she had, and even if they had the opportunity to prove it, he wouldn’t give them the chance to. His mate was right there, next to him. And one day, she was going to go back home, and her body would become a part of nature. He would be helpless as he did nothing but watch. Could he even grant her eternal life? He didn’t know because he had never had the need nor the desire to until she came along.

He could take her with him into his long rest, wrap her in the same power he wrapped himself in to keep her young. He could do that, yes. Would she leave everything behind if he asked her to? He didn’t think so. If he took her with him, it wouldn’t be without a fight, and it would end up with him dragging her down to his haven screaming and kicking. He didn’t want things to go down that road, but he was so possessive of her…so desperate to keep her by his side.

Her life revolved around that hotel chain of hers. Her life was the business she had dedicated her entire life to. Her life was among humans, not with him. She was unknowingly stuck between those two worlds. The time for her to choose would eventually come, and he hoped with all his being she chose him; that was the only choice he would give her. It was either him or – much like human wedding bows stated – till death did them part. He was well aware of the fact that anger could force his hand, and it bothered him to think he could ever lay a hand on her with the intention of killing her.

She stirred in her sleep, and he knew she was awake. So, when she opened her eyes and smiled at him, he smiled back knowing it was impossible for him to ever hurt her.


	19. Of Partings & Dresses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs _  
_ of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more_  
_ strength to know when to let go and then do it.”_  
_ -Ann Landers_

* * *

A few weeks had passed since their first time, and every night, they ended up as a tangled mess in her bed, sweating and panting. He lost himself in her under the moonlight, watching how it heightened the whiteness of her hair. An unspoken agreement had happened between them, and he had moved in with her. He had had no material possessions; he was an eternal, he had no need for them. But he had to dissimulate, so he had only brought a computer with him. When she had asked, he had shrugged, claiming he had no need for anything but that. They lie came easily, narrating how he had sold his apartment with the furniture included. She had complained playfully, telling him he had never taken her to his home.

But routine, much to his surprise, was pleasant. It was beautiful, a constant in world of uncertainty. It provided the comfort he had wanted, and he had found it in the arms of a young millionaire.

So, every morning, he woke up to the aroma of whatever she cooked for breakfast. He had acquired a taste for human food, despite not needing to eat it. Every morning, he took a shower and changed into whatever he wanted. He had also developed his own sense of style, which she described as minimalistic and chic, even though he had no idea what the latter truly meant. Every morning, he walked into the kitchen, towel in hand as he dried his hair, and watched her for a couple of seconds as she plated the food. He admired the way his shirts barely covered her legs and licked his lips whenever her movements exposed her skin to him. They would eat, talk about random things, and he would kiss her goodbye at the door when she left to go check on her hotel.

Life had become beautifully repetitive, filled with both of their smiles and touches. Humans may had had a lot of things wrong, but they had one thing right; and that was the rewarding and fulfilling detail that provided their lives with a semblance of meaning, of true meaning…bonding, no matter in which way. He had seen it with each passing day he spent by her side. The way humans interacted with each other, the way friendships outlasted things like nothing else could, the way parents loved their children with all their beings, the way humans took care of their animal companions as if they were their own children. Above it all, the way humans’ partners cared unconditionally for each other. He had observed it on the films he watched with her, on the streets with elderly couples, on the Kissing Bridge with teenagers.

Love was, just like Maturin had said, the strongest force that ever existed. Shame forced itself down his throat with each passing day he spent by her side, too. He had stripped a lot of humans from that. He had stripped them from the ones they cared about the most. He had destroyed entire lives and families out of hunger. And now that his hunger was gone, he wondered if he could’ve stopped himself back then. He wondered if he could’ve done things differently. He knew, of course, that it wouldn’t do any good to wonder, for everything had already come to pass. Each action, each word, it was in a past he could no longer control.

However, it brought the anxiety of the future forward. He had deduced, although without certainty, that his hunger was gone because of Eudaimonia. She had been feeding him experience, feelings and knowledge. And human food, but that wasn’t important. He had joined her on some days to check on her hotel, and he had discovered that wherever she went, people followed. He could only describe her in the same way Jackie Kennedy had described her husband after his death. Eudaimonia was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew it. When she walked in, every man’s head turned, everyone stood up to talk to her.

Most of the time, he stayed behind, only watching her interact with people, for he was used to interacting in a non-threatening way only with her. After some time, she had encouraged him to join her, had encouraged him to meet the people she frequently saw. He had refused at first, so she respected his choice. But, eventually, curiosity got the better of him and he found himself laughing at the jokes her workers cracked. He found himself pointing things out that could make the layout better and interacting with people when she wasn’t there.

It had been an extremely hard task at first, he had been learning a little bit more each day. He was certain he still had a long way to go in understanding the human complexity he had mocked in the past.

Moreover, he thought about what would happen when her hotel was finished. He couldn’t follow her out of Derry, he had spent so much time in there that he wasn’t certain whether he could stand to be so far away from his deadlights. He didn’t think it would kill him, but he wasn’t about to take that risk, no matter how much he wanted to remain by her side. So, the future was on her hands. She would be the one to decide if she stayed in Derry alongside him or if she left, only to return when the distance started driving her mad because of their bond.

“Please, do not lie to me. Does this dress make me look fat?” Eudaimonia broke him out of his reverie, stepping away from her walk-in closet and twirling to show him the dress.

She had been trying on dresses for the past hour, asking for his opinion on each one. And he knew he wouldn’t be of much help, because she looked beautiful with every dress. To him, though, she looked the most beautiful when she was naked and moaning underneath him.

The dress was horrible, he had to admit it. It looked like a bunch of strands of fabric simply stitched together in what tried to be a fashionable piece. It displayed a lot of her skin, so that made him dislike it even more. He knew it didn’t matter what she wore, men and women would still turn to look at her and attempt to seduce her. But the dress truly was a horrible piece. Only she could make it look decent, but it wasn’t good enough for her.

“It doesn’t make you look fat, but it is a fucking failure of a dress.” He answered honestly, glancing at the various boxes that laid opened on the floor with the dresses thrown carelessly inside of them. She frowned, looking at herself in the mirror and sighed in defeat.

“You’re right.” She answered, removing the insulting clothing piece from her body. “But I’m forced to wear at least one of these dresses to the event. If these brands bothered to send me free dresses, I have to bother with wearing one of them.”

She went back inside of her closet, and he could hear her struggling with the piece she was putting on. He knew it would take a couple of minutes until she came out, so he rested his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes, listening to the song playing in the background. He had discovered that she loved to always have music playing in her flat, no matter what she was doing. He had come to enjoy it, tapping his index finger to the rhythm of the song.

“What about this one?” She asked, her voice uncharacteristically nervous. He cracked an eye open and his breath got caught in his throat. She looked…magnificent. He had no words to describe how positively beautiful she looked.

“I think that’s the one.” He choked out, reaching for the glass of water that rested on the side table. “You look…how would you say it? Ravishing?”

She laughed, shaking her head. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled.

“You’re right. This is the one.” She said, turning slightly so she could appreciate the back of the dress.

“Who is it from?” He asked, studying the boxes on the floor once again.

“Uh…” She entered her closet once again. “Elie Saab, look 48 from their 2018-2019 winter/fall collection. For fuck’s sake, how many collections do these guys have?” She whispered to herself.

He stood up, entering the closet and coming to a halt behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. The mirror reflected them, and he could watch every detail on her face. He smiled at her, delivering a small kiss to her neck.

“You look beautiful.” He whispered, admiring how the dress fit her perfectly.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Gray.” She joked, turning on his arms and wrapping her own around his neck. She rubbed the tip of her nose against his and smiled warmly at him.

He connected their lips, relishing in the taste of the orange she had snacked on. Their kisses weren’t dominant nor desperate, it was just a simple exchange of unspoken words. He pressed her closer to him, not wanting to let go. She would be leaving in a couple of hours and he wasn’t ready to let her go. He wanted to keep her with him, he wanted her to stay.

“Don’t leave.” He whispered against her lips, eliciting a small chuckle from her.

“I’ll be back, I promise. It’s only for two days.” She whispered back, kissing him again. “I’m yours, Rob.”

“I know.” He answered. He broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers, wanting to enjoy ever bit of skin contact he could. “You’re mine.”

“I’m your partner, I’m your woman, your girl, your girlfriend.” She voiced, embracing him.

Her reassurances felt like water running down the throat of a thirsty man. They calmed him down, but not enough to not feel apprehensive. How he longed for her to stay.

“Mine.” He repeated, digging his fingers on her hip, knowing it would bruise. She moaned, tightening her embrace.

“Besides, I’ll be back before you know it. The flat won’t feel lonely if you play music.” She offered, a tinge of sadness on her voice.

He loosened his hold on her, pulling away just enough to gaze into her eyes. He nodded.

She spent the rest of the time trying to pack her bags. Emphasize on trying, because he kept distracting her with kisses and teasing touches. Until the time came for her to leave.

He watched helplessly as she zipped her baggage and checked her phone for her driver’s message. He felt like a child, desperate to not lose his favourite toy. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe, despite not really needing to.

The rest of the motions passed while his human brain was on autopilot. She hugged and kissed him goodbye, promising to call him as soon as she got there. He returned the hug and kiss, lingering there for longer than necessary. She didn’t complain, simply giving in to him. She cupped his face in her small hands, telling him she’d be back and gifting him with a smile so big he thought her face would crack. He watched as she got in the limousine, he watched as the wretched thing took her away from him. He watched as she faded from his vision, her transport nothing more than a dot in the distance.

And then, something familiar inside of him snapped.


	20. The Return of the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Monsters are real, and ghosts_  
_ are real too. They live inside us, and_  
_ sometimes they win.”_  
_ -Stephen King_

* * *

He had felt it from the moment she left the town, from the moment her transport crossed the line that divided his influence from the rest of the world. He had felt how his hunger awoke, so powerful that it felt as if he had been starving from the beginning of time. He had doubled over in pain, gasping for breath as hunger took over and his instincts heightened. His body changed on its own, already preparing itself to hunt for food. He groaned, trying to keep it in check but failing miserably.

Once he adapted to the pain, he forced himself to stand up. He looked in the mirror, a familiar darkness creeping into his being and bathing him in the instinct to kill. Pennywise stared back at him, with starving golden eyes and row after row of teeth. He recognized himself, he recognized the monster. And the monster looked out of place in the sanctity of her apartment. He was surrounded by white and soft colours; he was surrounded by the purity of her being and he felt as if he didn’t belong.

So, he ran away from whatever was left of his humanity, most of it gone along with the woman he desperately needed by his side. That afternoon, he feasted on more humans than he cared to count, barely quenching his hunger. He hadn’t had the need to feed in so long that his body vibrated with excitement with each victim he terrorized. He had been ruthless and merciless, not even bothering to play with his food. He had allowed the iron like taste of blood run down his throat, the soft and salty flesh to crumble underneath the power of his teeth and jaw. He had destroyed their bodies, relishing in the sound of their screams of pain and fear. He had never been so violent, so crazed in his killings; but every part of his body demanded it. Every human had seemed like a potential source of food, even the ones he knew and had come to like.

Once his hunger had been satisfied enough for him not to go on another murder rampage, he had morphed back into the shape of Robert Gray. He could barely recognize himself as he watched his blood-covered reflection staring back at him from the water. He had laughed maniacally, for he knew this was exactly who he was. A monster. He had cleaned himself up, sighing in pleasure every time he caught a glimpse of himself on the water’s surface. He vibrated with excitement, thinking of all the ways he would use Robert Gray’s body to attract new victims.

Part of him screamed not to contaminate the image of Robert, not to taint the purity of what Eudaimonia had brought out from him. And despite wanting to listen to it, he struggled. She wasn’t in Derry anymore. She was out there, letting other men and women feast on the sight of her skin. She was out there, enjoying the city and getting ready to enjoy her party. All of it without him.

He roared, the sound echoing through the once pure and shimmering sewers. Soon after his first kill, they had returned to their original state, minus the collection. It had been another taste of rush, knowing he had been the cause of it. He had been the one to change it all, to reflect how he felt on the inside on the sewers. The town of Derry was struck with a violent thunderstorm, shaking it to its very core. Dorian Gray had nothing on him, he thought bitterly as he watched Robert smile at him evilly. The fever began spreading from his heart down to his legs. The town of Derry would feel his abandonment, would feel the loss of his lover, the loss of the identity he had crafted to become a better version of himself.

The devil had awakened and hell hath no fury like It.

* * *

Mike sighed, downing his fourth glass of whiskey. Soon the anniversary of It’s defeat would be upon him. They had suffered, they had been brought down, they had risen, they had fought, and they had won. And yet, he didn’t feel as if he came out victorious. He knew It would return, and he had a terrifying suspicion that It was already back. He had seen It with Eudaimonia. He had seen It kiss her and treat her as one would a lover. He had watched the lingering touches and looks, the soft smiles. What bothered him the most was the fact that It had been playing with the poor woman.

But what did It want from her? What motivated Pennywise to spend time with a human, the race he so powerfully detested? There was something wrong with Robert Gray, and he had been the only person in town to notice it. He had asked around as casually as he had managed, and every person in town loved the guy. He assumed it had to do with the fact Robert was always with the young millionaire. People adored her, so it was only natural they would associate Robert to her.

“Tomorrow will be hell.” He whispered to himself as he dug in his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out enough to pay for his drinks and to tip.

The bartender gave him a pitying look, smiling at him as genuinely as she could. He smiled back, but it came out as a grimace. As soon as he exited the bar, he was viciously attacked by a cold gust of wind and rain. And if that hadn’t been enough, lighting blinded him momentarily and the thunder that followed echoed through his head violently. He had to hold on to the door for support, in fear he would fall with the intensity of the abuse his senses had just received. Once he regained his vision, he rubbed his eyes trying to alleviate the discomfort.

As soon as he opened them, he was greeted by the image of Robert Gray standing right across the street, staring at him with an unreadable expression and his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t sure whether it had been the alcohol cursing through his system, or the countless sleepless nights he spent as the date grew closer, or the fact that he had been doing research all these years only for it to prove they had failed, or maybe…it had been because he wanted answers and he wanted them right then and there. Either way, he crossed the street, the cold rain drenching him and the wind making him shiver. He tried to hide it, conceal the fact that he was equally terrified as he was excited for what he was about to do.

He approached Robert Gray, ignoring the warning signs in his mind that told him to run away as fast as he could. He was in danger, but he wasn’t certain why.

“It’s cold outside, you should head back inside.” Robert spoke, his voice surprisingly calm and unbothered at the fact that he was equally drenched in water.

“I need to know.” Mike answered, his voice confident, despite him feeling anything but.

“Know? Know what?” The tall, handsome man asked, his head tilting to the side. He was unnerved by the action, it made him look innocent.

“Are you back? Are you here to kill us all?” He spat, fisting Robert’s wet coat in his hands, attempting to lift the man. He was far too tall and far too heavy.

And then, Robert’s smile turned into a dangerous smirk, covered by layer of threat after layer of evil. He said nothing, only continued to stare at him. Mike felt anger pushing away his fear, replacing it with nothing but fury fuelled killer intent. He assumed he wasn’t so different from the monster in that sense.

“Why are you here? Haven’t we suffered enough? Didn’t my people suffer enough? Their people? You drove them away from their home! You killed them!” He yelled, shaking Robert. “You have caused nothing but pain. Is that what you’re planning on doing with Eudaimonia? Kill her and then throw her away?!”

Robert’s smile faltered at the last sentence. His hands slowly retreated from his pockets, and he placed them gently on Mike’s wrists. Mike gulped, noticing how his eyes turned from aquamarine to gold. He had not been wrong…he had not been wrong…

Slowly, he watched as Robert’s face started bleeding, giving way to the white skin and red lips of Pennywise. He was paralysed with fear, unable to react with nothing but a gaping mouth. Pennywise smiled at him, his buck teeth making him appear innocent even though he was anything but. His hold on Mike’s wrists tightened until he cried out in pain, trying to free himself.

“For 26 years, I dreamt of you, I craved you…I’ve missed you!” Pennywise exclaimed, laughing. Mike tried desperately to pull his hands away, struggling against the inhuman strength of the clown. “And now…you’ll float too!”

Mike watched in horror as Pennywise's mouth transformed, displaying teeth so sharp and long that he knew one bite would kill him. He was trying to make peace with his God, because he knew there was no way he would survive this. It giggled happily, basking in the fear that emanated from Mike. Drool began pooling on his hands, heating the skin there.

And suddenly, he was dropped to the floor, the only indication of what had happened evidenced in the drool coating his hands. Shock took hold of his body, and he was no longer in control of his limbs, merely a passenger as he walked to his home and cleaned himself from the events of the day. His mind couldn’t begin to process.

He sat on the floor with a glass of water on his shaking hands, now clean and dry. The police radio he had became nothing but white noise. He stared into space as the memories drowned him with fear. He had never forgotten, but he remembered everything vividly now. Tears sprung from his eyes, waterfalls so salty and filled with pain that the sobs that wrecked his body were merely the complement to the sad threnody his aching heart described.

A sound coming from the radio stopped his wails of pain. He turned his head to the thing, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Sir, we’ve got a 187. I repeat, we’ve got a 187 just by the bridge near the festival. The body is…uh…it’s better you come check this out, sir.”

Mike crawled to the sink and stumbled on his feet as he got up. He washed his face and looked in the mirror, trying to mentalize himself for the horror scene he would undoubtedly find if the murder had anything to do with It. He shook as he put on his jacket and left his home.

Upon his arrival, he snuck past the gossiping police officers. They were talking about the tragedy, saying they had never seen anything like it, asking themselves who could be so cruel and disturbed to do such a thing. Mike knew better, he knew exactly who had done it.

And as he stood on the other side of the river, watching the destroyed corpse of It’s victim, he knew the game had just begun. He glimpsed at the red balloon on the floor and frowned. He picked it up, and as his eyes surveyed the area in front of him, he choked on fear.

> _COME HOME_  
_ COME HOME_  
_ COME HOME_  
_ COME HOME_

Written on the walls with blood, the message did its job, filling Mike with fear to the bone, making him weak and torturing him with the fact that he had not been able to stop the murder of an innocent. He knew what he had to do.

The Losers had to come home. There was no other way. If they had been able to defeat It once, they would be able to do it again, and end him once and for all.

There was no way out.


	21. The Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“We all know change can happen in a moment,_   
_ but we’re afraid it won’t last.”_   
_ -Tony Robbins_

* * *

The gala was absolutely breathtaking, the room was packed with people. The elite from around the world had gathered to drink and dance in the name of charity. Eudaimonia had been away from the world of the bourgeoise for so long that she had forgotten how it looked. She made a mental note to congratulate her interior designer later in the evening when she caught a glimpse of him in the crowd. She could barely recognize the ballroom of her own hotel.

Expensive silk curtains hung from windows so immense she had to look twice to check if there were walls. In the background, the sound of an orchestra could be heard, playing the songs of a modern composer. The marble floors shone and if she looked down, she could get a glimpse at her reflection amongst the scattered flower petals. Glasses clinked together everywhere, and with each sip of expensive champagne, wallets opened with eagerness. The ceiling was covered in flowers, resembling some sort of fairy-tale theme. Swarovski crystals lit up the room with little help from the pastel lights that descended from the roof. The decorations were so detailed and expertly crafted that she had to wonder how much the marketing company and she had paid for them. There were small fountains, filling the room delicately with the calming sound of water.

The people around her were no strangers, and she had to remind herself to greet each important person, no matter how much she dreaded repeating the same conversations over and over. She sipped a glass of passionfruit juice, licking her lips at the aftertaste of it. She could see beautiful and equally arrogant women gossiping about the latest scandal, even starting up business ideas for next year. The men discussed their latest shag and how much they had been enjoying the reaps of their latest investment. She shook her head, not really caring much for it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she smiled at the image of young children. Although they were being forced to stay quiet and still because running around was inappropriate for an event of such high regard, they looked adorable in their suits and dresses. She had to hold back a laugh as she caught sight of a teenage couple sneaking to the gardens. And they thought they were being sneaky. Even though people turned a blind eye to it, she knew exactly what they were going to do. It was always a heavy make out session or some innocent fellatio. As innocent as fellatio could go…

She couldn’t really say she had missed such a life of excess, but she had welcomed the familiarity of it. A life filled with sex, drugs, money, business deals, networking and parties. She had been born and bred in it, but that didn’t necessarily mean she actively sought those things out. And in the same way she had been back then, she was watching from the sides.

Without her taking notice, a young woman had come to stand beside her.

“It’s a beautiful gala, Miss Agathynge.” She spoke, sipping from her glass of wine.

Eudaimonia turned to look at the woman, appreciating her beauty. She was a beautiful Asian woman with black hair slicked back, jewels decorating her neck and a pastel pink dress that gave her an aura of chasteness. She didn’t recognize the girl, though, so she made a move to shake her hand.

“I’m afraid we haven’t met yet. Miss…?” She hinted, sipping her juice as she waited for an answer.

“Oh, don’t bother. You may call me Bayu.” She said, shaking her hand. “Eudaimonia, correct? It’s quite a unique name.”

“So I’ve been told.” She answered, smiling politely. The girl had not given her a surname, which meant she was most likely not associated with any of the household names that filled the room. A woman as beautiful as her could only be looking for one thing, but she hoped she was incorrect. 

“You’re alone in a room full of people. Why’s that?” Bayu asked, sliding closer to her. “The sole heir to a multimillionaire hotel chain, alone at her own party.”

She raised an eyebrow questioningly even though she already knew what the gorgeous, seductive girl was. She tried not to let her disappointment show, reminding herself that strength resided within each female was different.

“I’m quite enjoying solitude, thank you.” She replied tensely, scanning the crowd for someone who might help her escape the clutches of a sugar baby.

The young woman placed her hand on her shoulders, giving her a massage. Eudaimonia repressed a sigh, feeling the stress from the last few hours leave her body.

“Perhaps all you need is the right company. Should I provide that?”

But the hand on her body felt wrong, it wasn’t big enough, thick enough and not nearly strong enough. She shook her head and removed the girl’s hand from her body as gently and politely as she could.

“As lovely as that sounds, I doubt my partner would like that.” She replied, taking a step in the opposite direction and straightening her back.

The girl frowned in disappointment but quickly covered it with a fake smile. She took a step closer to her, placing her free hand on her hip.

“I don’t see him anywhere.” She smirked, rubbing small circles on her hipbone. Eudaimonia tried to calm herself down, not wanting to cause a scene. “Maybe he doesn’t care if you and I sneak away for a couple of minutes.”

“But I do.” She answered, removing her hand harsher than she intended. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Bayu.”

She walked away, getting as far away from the flirting girl as she could. Perhaps, if she hadn’t been as smitten as she was with Rob, she would’ve taken the girl to bed. But it was not the case. The interaction only left her with a bitter taste on her mouth and a longing for the man who had been sharing her bed for the past few months.

Every kilometre that distanced her from him felt like a stab to her heart. She missed him, even if only a day had passed. She’d be flying back the next day, but she longed to be in his arms again. She wanted to kiss him and tell him all about the gala. She wanted to bask in the afterglow of their love making and listen to him talk about his recent case or just his perspective on different things in life. He had a beautiful way of speaking about the world. And he generally came up with magnificent stories about whatever crossed his mind.

She did her rounds, smiling and greeting with every person she had to. She repeated the same answers and questions, taking note of something about each person so she could bring it up next time she saw them. It was a small thing, but she knew it made people feel important. For example, last month she had seen the head of a famous investment company and had talked with him about private schools. She asked him if he had finally chosen one for his boy and his face had lit up at the fact that she had remembered.

A server came up to her with a tray full of hors d'oeuvres and her stomach begged her to grab one of the caviar-covered dough circles. She stopped the server, taking two for herself and thanking him.

Many people had complimented her dress, saying she looked beautiful. And even more people had hinted at her to get married. She had ignored each one of them and kept the conversation going until she deemed it socially acceptable for her to leave. It had been an eventful evening and she was certain her deal had been successful, and it would deliver the results she desired.

She left the ballroom, making her way to the rooftop with her snacks in hand. She knew the gala was far from over, but she needed a moment to get away and give her aching feet some rest. She had been dealing with a hellish headache for most of the day, and she was eager to get some peace. The cold city air greeted her as soon as she reached the rooftop garden. Small lanterns hung, giving the place a fantasy ambiance. It almost looked as if small balls of light floated around the place.

She sat down, frowning as she took notice of a dying peach tree. She loved plants and seeing her garden wilting away did not make her happy. She munched on the caviar toast as she walked to the tree, inspecting it for the cause of its decay.

As soon as the food landed on her stomach, she felt nausea. She took a deep breath, feeling how the bile threatened to rise. The smell of her snacks had been bothering her, but she hadn’t taken much notice of it, shrugging it off as not being used to it anymore. Without warning, she hunched over the dying tree, gagging and spilling the contents of her stomach on its roots. The force of it obligated her to close her eyes, feeling the ache in her head and throat intensify.

She held on to the bark for support, not believing what her eyes were seeing. She had puked liquid light. She blinked again, shaking her head to clear off whatever had made her hallucinate, and checked once again. It was…right there…a puddle of fucking light on the roots of her tree. 

The tree absorbed her vomit and she grimaced at how disgusting it sounded as she took a step back. The roots swallowed the light that had exited her body, and she could see how it travelled all the way from the bark to the branches and leaves. As the tree healed and sprung back to life right in front of her eyes, she scrambled back and fell to the floor.

Peaches started growing unnaturally fast in front of her eyes and they were the juiciest and most inviting fruits she had ever seen in her entire life. They looked delicious…and much to her disgusted and confused mind’s dismay, they also smelled delicious. They tinged the air with their aroma, making her dizzy.

“What the fuck?” She whispered to herself, her trembling voice giving away the fear and confusion she felt in that moment.

She slowly lifted herself from the floor, careful not to ruin her dress, and approached the tree once again. She hesitated, not entirely certain of what her next course of action was. She reached out to grab a peach. The weight and size surprised her. She didn’t want to bite into it, knowing that – somehow – it had grown because of her stomach’s contents. So, she stabbed it with her nail instead, surprised at the amount of juice that the fruit spilled. It had to be the most beautiful peach she had ever seen.

Pain filled her head and she dropped the fruit so she could hold her head, trying to make the hammering go away. She cried out in pain as quietly as she could, not wanting anyone to find her in the fucked-up state she was in. Besides, how would she be able to explain that she was completely terrified of the tree she had just brought back to life?

Her world became a blur and she fell to the floor, the fruit laying not to far from her hand. It made for a Snow White like image after biting into the poisoned apple.

* * *

She was back in the enclosed space she had seen before. The walls were still sticky, and there was still no way out. The only difference there was between the last time and her present was the fact that she could see. She was inside of what resembled a cocoon or an egg. The walls were white and the gooey substance she had felt was completely clear. It pooled beneath her naked form.

“Hello?” She asked, hoping for the voice to help her.

Silence followed, and she struggled to stay calm. The walls made her feel trapped and she started looking for a way out. She took notice of the fact that the walls were thin, like eggshells. She pushed against them, smiling at the satisfying crack they made as they broke. She tore a whole through the wall, and slowly exited the egg she had been trapped in. She was greeted by the sight of a massive turtle smiling down at her, no matter how strange it was.

“Hello, daughter.”

She was about to open her mouth to speak when she felt warmth concentrating in her stomach. She looked down and placed a hand to it, feeling how something moved inside of her faintly. She jerked her head up, the question was clearly etched in her eyes. The turtle nodded and she gasped.

“Say hello to him for me, will you? I know you’ll do a better job than I did.”

She stumbled, watching the very universe unfold before her eyes.


	22. The Afterparty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: explicit content ahead.  
Enjoy.

_“Doubt thou the stars are fire. Doubt that the_  
sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.”  
\- William Shakespeare

* * *

It had enjoyed every grain of fear he had instilled in the Loser’s from the moment Mike Hanlon had begun dialling their numbers. Eddie had crashed, Bill had stayed rooted in the same spot for hours, Ben had watched the sun rise from his window, Richie had puked and barely managed to perform, Beverly had left her abusive husband and Stanley…oh, Stanley…fear had been too much for him. He had shown Beverly how each of them would die, and he wasn’t ashamed in admitting he had enjoyed watching as blood drained from Stanley’s wrists. He had died peacefully, almost painlessly.

He had enjoyed every second he spent torturing them inside of that restaurant, watching how fear overtook them. They had relived every ounce of pain again. No one had been able to escape. He had watched as they acted on their instinct of survival, getting ready to leave town as fast as they could. He had watched as Bill suffered the effects of the drug Mike had given him, as the Ritual of Chüd revealed itself to him. He had watched as Beverly confessed to seeing them die in horrible ways. He watched as they pieced what had once been his revenge plan.

He didn’t want to get revenge anymore, but he knew he had to end them. For as long as they lived, independently of whether he caused their deaths or not, they would be a threat to him. There was a reason why he targeted children in the first place. They shone. Especially the Loser’s Club. Their bond was only solidified by the fact that they had that trait to them, it made them strong. He had feared them for they had been able to defeat him. He had believed everything they had said to him, he had weakened because their will had been too much for him alone. Anger alone had not been enough to defeat them.

He had allowed them to rest for what remained of the night, they would need it. He had lost the battle, but he would win the war. The days that followed would test them in ways they had never even begun to imagine. If they had thought they had seen his true strength, they were wrong. He had never felt like this, he had never felt such power coursing through his body.

He had been resting in Eudaimonia’s apartment, the home they shared. Robert Gray laid on the couch, his forearm shielding his face from the light that streamed through the windows. It was still early in the morning, and he knew she would return soon. He found himself desperately looking for any signs of her in Derry. He had stared at himself in the mirror for hours, despising what he had allowed himself to become, for allowing himself to stoop low enough to be consumed by killer instincts he had no control over.

Her limousine finally arrived on Derry, and with each meter she got closer to her flat, she felt nervousness filling her body. After the gala, she had stumbled into her hotel room, far too tired to have someone drive her to her old home. She hadn’t even bothered to undress. Morning greeted with the knowledge that she’d have to face the reality of what she had learned, not only her erroneous sterility, but the fact that she had…replaced a turtle that asked her to say hello to Robert? Not only would she have to reveal the fact that she was pregnant, but the fact that she had brought a bloody tree back to life. She hoped it made sense to him, otherwise she’d be stuck in a mental institution raising a child on her own.

When she got to her building, she was greeted by the sight of Rob on the entrance door. He was resting against the wall, with a charming smile. Her heart warmed up at the sight and she wondered if it would be wrong to enjoy him first before dropping the bomb on him. She made up her mind, smiling as he took her luggage out of the car. He wrapped her in his arms, burying his face in her neck, inhaling every scent she offered.

“Hi, you.” She said, kissing him. He didn’t say anything, only kissed her back.

She hadn’t even registered going up the stairs, for he had carried her and her luggage. Much less entering her apartment. She was desperate for him, and that was all she really knew.

“Fuck.” He whispered reverently. Her lips curled into a smile.

“Take off your clothes.” She ordered, removing her own clothes. Her underwear was the only fabric that separated her body from his hungry gaze.

After locking them inside, he reached behind and tugged his shirt over his head. Or at least, tried to. The buttons were too tight and caught on his jaw. Impatient, he tore the shirt apart, and tossed it aside. He unsnapped his pants in record time and, wavering slightly, kicked them off, leaving him only in his underwear. Her mouth watered at the sight of his muscles. His body was an absolute work of art.

“The bedroom?” She asked, her tone strained.

He shook his head, biting his lip. Her body begged for him.

“Too far a walk.” She nodded, dragging him further into the living room and tumbled him onto the couch. He pulled her down with him, rolling them over so he was on top of her. His weight pinned her down deliciously. Instinctively, she spread her legs, welcoming him close.

“I missed you, and it seems you’ve missed me too.” She teased.

“I have missed you more than you’d ever know.” He responded; his gaze soft.

She arched her back and meshed her core against him. Her eyes closed in sweet surrender and she chewed on her bottom lip. She mewled in pleasure and he sucked in a breath.

“So beautiful, so mine.” He whispered as she arched once again, moaning.

“That’s because I’m underneath you and practically naked.” She scoffed, playing with his hair. He chuckled at he words.

“Completely naked very soon, sweet dove.” He whispered into her ear. She had to resist the urge to moan. He licked her ear, then her neck and pressed himself between her legs.

Her fingers gripped his back, pinching his skin. He palmed her breast. He shoved the cup of her brassiere down and anchored it under her breast, plumping the flesh higher for his view. For his sampling. Then his mouth descended, hot; and he sucked hard, swirling his tongue expertly.

“Ah…Rob…” She moaned, her hips coming off the settee at the sharp sensation and grinding into him.

He gave the other one his full attention, biting until she cried out, then licking the sting away. It nearly undid her. She liked him being rough and she wanted more.

“I…need you. I don’t want to be gentle.” He growled, his voice deep and erotic. He squeezed her hip in a vice-like grip. She could feel his desperation.

“No, don’t be gentle.” She managed to breathe out. She wanted to be taken, ravished. She wanted it hard, forceful, animalistic. She wanted him to remind her to whom she belonged to.

“Hard.” He said. She knew he was torn. In the past, he had taken his time with her, enjoyed her. Now, he was on fire, and the fire demanded fast and rough, even though he knew he should slow down. The need was dark, much like what he had been feeling in the past days. He couldn’t fight it; he didn’t want to fight it anymore.

Everything about it was seductive. Passion clamoured for release, hot and heavy.

“Dove…” He managed to get out between clenched teeth. He couldn’t give in to such dark desires, couldn’t give in with her…_please give in_.

“Rob…” She panted. With her eyes closed, she ground against him. She knew he loved it when she did that, but she also knew that every time she moved, she pushed him closer to the edge. Soon, he would lose control.

He shook his head, trying to make her understand he had to slow things down.

“Don’t stop.” She moaned, that was her only reply. He forced his body still and stared down at her.

Her wavy strands of hair had come undone and they spilled over the couch pillows. Her skin was flushed with pink desire. She was ecstasy and if he didn’t make her feel as wild as he did, he would lose it. He needed her writhing, his name on her lips. His name on her every cell, branded deep. He was like a caveman, possessive and primitive. Her breasts overflowed in his hands, her stomach soft and flat, adorned by muscle. Her legs were tapered.

Still holding back, still trying to regain some semblance of restraint, he spoke up.

“How rough can you take it?” He asked, his voice a growl. She didn’t look scared, much to his surprise. The words seemed to excite her.

“As rough as you can give it. Make me scream.” She whispered seductively into his ear, her voice deep and raspy.

“Are you sure?” He asked. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple and splashed into her shoulder. He was humming with the force of his own need.

In lieu on an answer, she smiled wickedly and sank her nails into his back. She clawed him, drawing blood. He hissed in a breath as his body jerked in arousal. Fuck, that was exactly what he craved.

Motion jerky, he ripped her brassiere off, then reached between them and ripped off her panties. The flimsy material tore easily. She fisted his hair and tugged him into her mouth. Their teeth banged together. Her taste flooded him, sweet like cinnamon, smooth like wine, both urging him to take more of her. He tunnelled his fingers between her legs and shoved two fingers deep inside of her.

“Fuck!” She shouted. She was wet, but he wanted her wetter. As he worked on her, she gasped and moaned and writhed.

“Come. Come for me.” He demanded huskily.

She struggled for breath as her inner walls clenched tight, clasping onto his fingers and holding them captive. She threw her head back, white hair tumbling in every direction. She shouted his name as she came.

He would’ve come, too, just hearing his name on her lips. Her nails sank into his back again, then clawed their way to his chest. Even when her spasms stopped, she continued to scratch him and he continued to work her with his fingers, keeping up the frantic rhythm. Maybe she truly wanted it as rough as he could give it.

“We’re not done. I need more.” She demanded, gripping his underwear and pushing it down his legs. He grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head.

“Wrap your legs around my waist.” He commanded. She did so without protest. She was panting and her breasts rose and fell with every intake of breath. Muted beams of light slithered in from the windows and poured over her naked skin.

She was his.

His body reached for her. Arching up, she bit his collarbone. He growled in pleasure, her sharp little teeth drawing blood. Only then did he slam inside of her. The entire couch rocked with the motion and she screamed his name. His eyes closed at the intoxicating bliss. It was paradise. Hot, tight, soaking wet. He moved in and out of her fast and hard. He couldn’t hold back, and he knew she didn’t want him to. She was as wild as he was. She nipped her way up his neck.

He released her wrists with one hand, still holding them captive with the other. He used his free hand to cant her face to the side, and then bit at the core of her neck. She came.

He bit and sucked, and moved his hand to her derriere, squeezing, kneading, spreading her wider. The convulsion of her orgasm intensified; she clenched around him impossibly tighter. Wet beyond what he could’ve ever imagined. She moaned, loud and long. And that was all he needed to send him over the edge. His muscles tightened and a growl spilled from his lips.

“Rob…” She gasped, sweat pouring from her skin.

“Eudaimonia…” He struggled to draw in a breath, struggled to get his heartbeat under control.

They cuddled on the couch, simply enjoying each other’s company. He felt it, then, a small amount of fear coming from her body.

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

“Rob…we need to talk.”


	23. Daffodils

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“I love you, and because I love you, I would_  
_sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth_  
_ than adore me for telling you lies.”_  
_ \- Pietro Aretino_

* * *

After uttering those words, she felt as if a pressure had been lifted off her shoulders. There was no backing out, no lying. She would take it step by step, word by word. She didn’t know how he would react to her being pregnant. She had yet to react herself, she hadn’t entirely processed it. After so many years of thinking she was sterile, the beautiful man in front of her had been able to gift her with life, and she thanked him for it. They were in a formal relationship, but that didn’t necessarily mean he would stick around. If he didn’t, she knew she’d be able to raise the child on her own. She had the money, the resources. But she didn’t want to do it on her own. She wanted him to be there to see their baby grow.

They had both showered and changed. And now, they were sitting on opposite ends of the settee, staring at each other, waiting for the words that would break the silence. She had her legs close to her chest, with her arms locking them in place. He was spectacularly good at remaining silent, so she prepared herself, choosing her words as carefully as she could.

“Rob, we’ve been together for quite some time now.” She began. He raised an eyebrow and nodded, not wanting to interrupt her. “And these past few months have been amazing, if I could relive them again and again, I would.”

She choked up, shaking her head to get rid of the tears that threatened to spill. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t allow herself. And despite her best efforts to not show weakness, he noticed.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He simply said, moving to sit closer to her and putting a hand on her knee reassuringly.

“Yesterday…something happened, and at the time, I wasn’t certain whether it was what I thought. And this is going to sound like madness, and it most certainly is, but it -” She tried to explain. He laughed, shaking his head. She glared at him, she was trying to tell him the truth and he had the audacity to laugh.

“You’re tergiversating, dove.” He pointed out, making her flush with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I think it’s best if I just fucking say it.” She said, staring at her fireplace. The flames rocked back and forth, providing the warmth that filled the room.

She stayed silent, thinking of different ways she could say it, but in the end, she settled for the only words that conveyed the message correctly.

“I’m pregnant.” She stated, looking at him in the eye, searching for his reaction.

His eyes widened. “It can’t be.”

She smiled sadly, tucking a strand of stray hair behind her ear nervously.

“I thought the same thing, but I took so many pregnancy tests that my hotel bathroom was filled with them. I had never peed so much in my entire life.” She joked wetly. “Rob, they were all positive.”

He shook his head, taking her hand in his.

“Dove, it can’t be. I can’t have kids either.” He worded.

In retrospect, he should’ve chosen his words better, but they were the only ones that could properly phrase what he was trying to tell her without giving away what he really was. She frowned, anger filling her.

“Are you calling me a bloody cheater?” She spat, pulling her hand away. “Because I can assure you, you’re the only man who has been fucking me senseless ever since I came to Derry.”

He realized his mistake, grimacing at how difficult it would be to explain himself.

“No.” He negated, taking her hand back and forcing it to stay there despite her efforts to pull away. “But it’s not possible, dove. I don’t know how to explain to you.”

“Then I just made a baby on my own.” She snapped.

He groaned in frustration. He was an eternal, he didn’t have to explain himself to her. Yet, he wanted to do it, he wanted to make her understand that there was no way in hell she could be pregnant.

“I understand that we both made a baby, but, dove, I don’t…” He trailed off, looking for the right words.

“You’re an asshole, Rob. Fuck it, I’ll just raise the child on my bloody –“ Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth, quickly running to the bathroom.

He followed her, worried over the discomfort and pain he had been able to sense coming from her body. She was kneeling beside the toilet, gagging. He approached her slowly, gently pulling her hair away from her face.

And then he understood. He could barely believe his eyes as liquid light exited her mouth. She was vomiting light, pure light. It was impossible. Only a being as powerful as him could possibly bear his offspring. For her to be able to able to convert his seed into a child meant that she was not as human as he thought. His mind ran at a thousand miles per hour, mentally scanning the evidence that had been laid out in front of him all along.

He had never been able to access her mind until he mated with her, and even then, he had only been able to fully access what she felt, never her memories or thoughts. Wherever she stepped, life grew, and he had witnessed it in the Well House. The whiteness of her hair had been natural, despite it being biologically impossible at her age.

“It’s glowing…this is unprecedented, Eudaimonia.” He whispered as she emptied her stomach on the toilet. Light kept coming out of her.

The words he had been hearing in his visions poured out of his mouth and he frowned. They had been an omen. They had been a promise of the future, a warning.

“No fucking shit, Sherlock.” She choked out, resting her head on the seat. “This is what I meant.”

“It can’t be…” He whispered, more to himself than to her. She groaned, wiping the corner of her mouth with her hand.

“But it is!” She spat, tired of hearing him repeat the same words. “The giant fucking turtle confirmed it. He said something about telling you hi and shit. He called me his daughter, Robert, his fucking daughter. And since I’m not one for mystical shit, I took 13 pregnancy tests. And now, I’m here, puking out light and desperately trying to tell you that you impregnated me despite me being sterile. So, either the fucking turtle was right, and your sperm is godlike, or I became a fucking plant.”

The fucking turtle, indeed. Robert frowned, now finally understanding everything. There was absolutely no way she could’ve come up with that on her own, which meant it was the truth. But it didn’t explain how, Maturin, the dead fucking turtle, had spoken to her.

“How?” He questioned, kneeling next to her and grabbing her face with both of his hands, forcing her to look at him.

“I’ve been having visions since I came to Derry. At first it was just random scenes, but then I started seeing myself inside of an egg and when I finally broke out of it, the turtle was right there. He told me I had taken his place.”

Another one of his visions completed by words. He should’ve known they would all end up pointing to her, he should’ve seen it coming since the beginning.

Maturin had always been good at games; he knew the turtle had been involved in his downfall. But he had never pulled a move such as this one. It was absolute madness. For Maturin to have made her, it meant that he had done it before dying. The turtle knew he would die. He had known all along and had created his replacement. The fucking thing that had called him brother had played the master move in the game. Had he created her to spite him? Had he created her knowing they would end up mating? The turtle’s daughter had become his lover, and she had taken his place. It meant she was the personification of life, Maturin’s replacement. It made sense for the turtle to have been able to communicate with her if she was truly his daughter, there was an unbreaking link between life and death. Did she know what she was? Had she known all along and feigned ignorance? Did she know what he was? If she didn’t, would it be wise to reveal himself to her?

She was everything he was not. She was good, undeniably good. How could she accept the fact that he was a monster? Only a monster could love a monster. And she carried his child in her womb. What would the child be like? Would they take after his side of consumption, destruction and power; or would they take after their mother? He had never produced offspring; he didn’t know how it worked or how to help her through it.

Maturin truly had been a mastermind. No doubt remained in his mind about the turtle being involved. But the questions regarding Eudaimonia remained. He didn’t know how to ask her without giving away his identity.

He wanted to protect the image she had of him. In her eyes, he was good, so he felt good. Her ability to evoke things from him made sense now that he knew she was also an eternal. He had crafted a personality for himself that he liked, all because she had been there. She had kept at bay his impulses and instincts unknowingly.

His eyes widened slightly as he realized she was in danger. The Losers were back for him, he had brought them back. Mike Hanlon knew she was his lover; they would come for her if they found out what she was. To them, it would make no difference whether she was life itself or death. He had to get rid of them before they could even begin to tie her to him. He had brought death to her door.

They shone, they were a threat to them, there was no other way than to kill them. They were as thirsty for revenge as he had been in the past.

“I brought a tree back to life, you know?” She whispered, pulling him away from his thoughts.

“Really?” He asked absentmindedly. She didn't know...she was scared of what she was. 

“Are you going to send me to a mental institution now? Does anything I’ve said make sense to you?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“On the contrary, dove. I’ll have to keep you closer than ever.” He only answered one of her questions, not quite ready to give her a straight answer. 

She chuckled dryly, disentangling herself from his hold and washing her face. He remained seated on the floor, darkness overtaking his mind in a way it had never done before.

If he was to fight the Losers, it wouldn’t be out of revenge. This time, he had to win no matter what. He had to protect her from them.

From himself.


	24. Where's My Love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“You have to be willing to go to war with _   
_ yourself and create a whole new identity.”_   
_ \- David Goggins_

* * *

He had left as soon as she had fallen asleep, leaving a note behind that explained a case had come up and a promise to return as soon as he could. It was complete and utter bullshit, of course. He didn’t have a case, but he would return to her. He had to deal with the Losers first.

Time. It was such a strange concept. It slipped like sand through your fingers, it was never enough or too much. All beings waited for time, yet time waited for no one. If there ever was a supreme being above all, it had to be time. Every second counted, but he couldn’t face the enemy if he wasn’t at the top of his game. His head was anything but clear.

He was back at the sewers, his human form distorted with the clown one. His body couldn’t pick between the two, and it was a perfect representation of the storm that raged inside of him. He had torn the walls apart, there were claw marks everywhere, his blood floating up and through the air as if it were paper. Water sprayed everywhere, for he had broken the pipes apart. The floor was cracked, the debris of his fury littered around every corner. He had reached out to a former minion. Henry Bowers had escaped the mental facility and was on his way to dispose of the kids he had tormented back in his teenage years. He could take them out on his own, but he had others to protect. It wasn’t just himself anymore.

The fucking turtle, whom he thought had just choked to death on a galaxy or two, had created his replacement. Eudaimonia, the beautiful and young woman who had entranced him so much during the past few months with emotions and physical pleasure, was nothing but an extension of Maturin. A piece of him, the very definition of mother nature. He knew, from the moment he connected the life that had sprouted from the yard of the Well House to her, that she was as powerful as him. The fact that she carried his offspring meant she was powerful enough to bear it. No being could’ve been able to do it without dying in the process, the child would’ve killed them by absorbing their life essence, their source.

He had torn apart the sewers, he had destroyed them in anger. His roars had echoed through Derry disguised as a storm. How dare the turtle do something like this to him? How dare Maturin force his ideals down his throat in the form of a mate? He felt naïve, foolish and angry. He had been better than the turtle, he had been smarter. Maturin had never done anything but give birth to the universe and sleep. And the latter was his trademark. He had hoped for the turtle to die in his sleep, but he hadn’t. He had known all along, he had planned, he had acted upon his imminent death, and he had created the woman who had brought him joy.

Was it mockery? Was it a joke? It seemed as if the turtle had had the last laugh in the end. Even in death, he still pestered him. Even in death, Maturin called him brother. Even in death, the turtle had looked out for him.

It was bittersweet, knowing the turtle had left a piece of him behind. Because even if he had never loved the turtle, he cared for his daughter. He cared for his replacement. He rejoiced in the turtle’s death, but hers would kill him. She was his mate, she belonged to him. For her to die would be to lose a part of himself. He had lost an equal once, he had felt how it made him powerful to know there was nothing holding him back. But there had always been, he simply hadn’t known. He wondered, then, if she truly was as young as she seemed. If she was an eternal, it meant that she was immortal if she wasn’t killed.

What ran through her veins had been dormant, waiting to come out. She could’ve spent her entire life not knowing, confused at her longevity, angry at herself – much like himself – if she hadn’t come to Derry.

What if he had eaten her? Had the fucking turtle even considered that? He could’ve killed her, destroyed her piece by piece and ingested her flesh. There would have been no personification of life then. There would’ve only been consumption until there was nothing left to consume but himself. He would’ve devoured the entire universe, would’ve proceeded to enter other realities until something stronger than him killed him.

He was a monster, she was not. Everything he had felt around her, it had been good. It had been blissfully liberating to feel something other than anger and hatred. And now, it had been contaminated by the turtle. He didn’t know whether he hated her or not. He could feel the need to tear her apart try to take control, but he couldn’t do it. No matter how much his killer instinct demanded it, he couldn’t. For the first time in his life, he was fighting something other than children. He was fighting against himself.

He killed, he destroyed everything he touched. It was a wonder he had not ruined her with how tainted he was. He didn’t…he didn’t deserve her. She was far too good for him. She had gifted him with everything good and he couldn’t give something similar back. He was evil, he was the very definition of everything wrong. He couldn’t take responsibility for the wickedness and madness of humans outside of Derry, but he could take responsibility for the horrible things he had made the ones inside of the town do.

He sat in the middle of the sewers, tearing his own skin apart. His claws dug painfully into Robert Gray’s soft skin, blood pouring out from the abused dermis. He screamed until his human throat ached, until his voice was no longer Robert’s but Pennywise’s.

He was evil, he was needy. He was not what he had been pretending to be around her. He had faked so much he had started to believe it. He pretended until it became his reality. If only he had gone back into his long rest, if only he had left her alone. But he hadn’t wanted to. She was fascinating, she was exotic. And amongst the ubiquity of control, she had been something he couldn’t control. She hadn’t shone, but she had had familiarity to her – and now he knew why. He should’ve been able to distinguish the turtle’s energy in her, but he had been far too deep inside of her to even notice.

It was a tragic sight, the clown sitting amongst his destruction, sobbing in anger, pain and sadness. The fucking turtle was gone, and he had left him a piece of himself because he didn’t want him to be alone. But he was. He was alone, burdened by the weight of his guilt, of his secret.

How could he even tell her the truth about himself? She carried their child in her womb, and he ate children. He had a specific taste for the ones that shined. What if he ate his own child? Would he become a kinslayer? Would he even have it in himself to eat his own baby? He had eaten babies before. But he thought of the child, of children that looked like both their parents. It was far too good to be true. He destroyed, he consumed; how could he even create something so beautiful? It had to have been her, there was no other explanation. He couldn’t have done it on his own.

Maybe he would find comfort in destroying everything good she had shown him. Maybe he would show her his true nature so that she left. He didn’t know if the bond could be broken, but he could try. He was a monster; he didn’t know whether he would be able to protect their child from himself. The little thing was better off with its mother. He wouldn’t be able to raise it; he was not meant for it. He would only ruin it, taint it with the darkness that consumed him. After so many months of feeling like he didn’t deserve her, he had now come to realize he deserved it even less. Would she run away if he revealed himself to her? Would she hate him for the all the things he had done? For what he was planning on doing?

But to give the creature a chance at life, he had to make sure Eudaimonia was safe. They would come for her, he knew it. As soon as they all finally got their shit together. They were a mess and so was he.

Little by little, the clown overshadowed the man. He laid in the centre, laughing maniacally. He was breaking down. Everything about the turtle had been a lie, everything about the mother of his child had been a lie. Everything about Robert Gray had been a lie. He knew that Robert Gray was the one who caused him the most pain. He had felt at home in the skin of the attractive young private investigator. He had liked who he was.

Laughter turned into cackling; pain turned into anger. Aquamarine turned into starving golden eyes. Ashy blond hair turned into orange. The consuming need for answers turned into desperate hunger and a need to kill. Human skin turned into white and red. Happiness had turned into fury and pain. He wheezed, his laughter nothing more than air.

The Losers would pay for his downfall, they would pay for Maturin’s actions. It would do them well to hold onto every second they had, because they would never get them again. If they thought he had been a monster back then, they had no idea what was coming for them. The turtle wasn’t there anymore to help them, they were on their own. They only had each other and the shine, and it wouldn’t be enough. Not when he was not only driven by anger, but the need to protect what belonged to him. Whether they realized it or not, death was coming for them. He was coming for them. They would choke on their fear. Nothing could help them now. He would burn them down. No number of oceans and lakes would put the fire out.

From the dawn of time to the end of days, he wanted the pain and the bitter taste of blood on his tongue again. Iron would be the only thing he’d remember as he rested.

He smirked, displaying his sharp teeth and raising his head to stare at the ceiling.

Now he had become death, the eater of worlds.


	25. January Embers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“No one saves us but ourselves. No one_  
_ can and no one may. We ourselves_  
_ must walk the path.”_  
_ \- Buddha_

* * *

She had woken up to the sound of the door closing, and anxiety had threatened to rear its ugly head, making her believe he had left her for good. That he had faked how caring and accepting he had been, only to run away as soon as she let her guard down. But it didn’t make sense, Robert wasn’t like that. He had always been protective and caring, if not a little possessive. She tried to hold back a laugh, as she remembered all the times, he had wrapped his arm around her possessively around other people. She had known it was jealousy, but she had never commented on it.

A man like him would never abandon her, and if he did, she was ready to grieve him and prepare herself to raise their child on her own. She didn’t have her mother anymore…so there was no one she could turn to if she needed help, but she would find it. She was not afraid of being alone.

She had gotten up and found his note in the kitchen counter. Relief had filled her at the words he had written. He promised to return. She had no reason to doubt him beyond the falsity her anxiety was capable of conjuring. So, she returned to bed and allowed herself to rest. She had plenty of things to do if she was going to bring the child into the world. She knew aborting was an option, but her past infertility had convinced her otherwise, knowing this could be the only chance she had at a baby.

He had been calm about it, he had murmured words of comfort and reassurance in her ear as she fell asleep in his arms. He had promised to be there for them, to protect them and care for them as best as he could. He hadn’t answered her questions, claiming he would explain it all in due time. The turtle and the egg didn’t make sense, no matter how much she tried to understand it, she didn’t have enough information. Still, she trusted him. There, in the arms of the man she cared for, she had allowed Morpheus to take her.

She woke up, feeling energized. She allowed herself to rest on the bed for a couple of minutes, her hand placed on top of her belly in a protective manner. She remembered how she had felt the kicks inside of her vision, how her swell had been rounded and filled with life. A smile adorned her face, feeling love overwhelm her at the life that grew inside of her.

And as much as she would’ve enjoyed staying home all day, she had to go check on her hotel. It wouldn’t be long until it was finished, and she wanted to be involved in every step of the way. Prenatal vitamins were also a must, she knew she had to start taking them as soon as possible to avoid any complications or birth defects.

She got up, took a shower and began getting dressed. Her black pants were already in place, and she held her yellow dress shirt in her hand as she stared at her flat stomach. There were barely any signs of her pregnancy, so it didn’t surprise her that she hadn’t been aware of it until after a month.

“How will I look?” She asked herself, caressing the skin there lovingly.

After getting dressed, she had breakfast as she read her emails. The gala had been a complete success, and the hype for her new hotel was high. She would have to talk to the major about doing something to attract more tourists than usual so that the opening was a hit. So, after finishing her morning routine, she put on her black heels and brown trench coat and headed for her hotel.

Back in the city, she used to drive everywhere. Living in Derry had helped her develop a liking to walking places, no matter how far they were. Her legs had never been stronger, not even leg day at the gym had given her such results. She laughed at herself. She had never felt this kind of happiness, it was overflowing from her and she was pretty sure she was basically hopping her way to the hotel.

Her workers had greeted her happily, and she had stayed for a few minutes to talk to them before proceeding to ask about the progress of the hotel. They claimed the recent storms had made it hard, but that everything was back on track. They had assured her the gardens and the pool were just fine and all that remained was finishing some parts of the structure and decorating. It didn’t surprise her that everything had been done so fast, for she had spent millions in making sure it was done as quickly as possible.

She had stayed for a while, walking around the gardens and – without anyone noticing her – bringing whatever was dying back to life. She tried not to panic at how easily she was able to do it, at how willingly the plants grew and reached out for her. She practiced for a couple of minutes, trying to understand the magnitude of what she could do and learning how to control it. She had discovered nothing happened unless she wanted it to, but small bursts of power sparked out of her when she wasn’t paying attention. Making a mental note to keep that in check, she had bid goodbye to her workers and promised to return the next day.

Even if Robert wasn’t around for the day, it wouldn’t stop her from starting her baby clothes and furniture shopping. But since the pregnancy had been unplanned, she needed to buy the prenatal vitamins first. As she walked through the streets of Derry, she recognized someone walking down the street. She had to blink twice to make sure it was the person she thought and when she identified her, she grinned.

She caught up to the woman, the excitement she felt threatening to escape her body.

“Beverly Marsh?” She asked nervously. The woman stopped walking and turned to her, observing her curiously.

“Yes, can I help you?” Beverly questioned, her voice soft and welcoming. Eudaimonia offered her hand for the woman to shake.

“My name is Eudaimonia Agathynge.” The redhead shook her hand and smiled back. “I recognized you from afar, and I needed to tell you how much I love your brand.”

The redhead smiled sheepishly and laughed nervously, probably not used to praise.

“Thank you. Your name…it sounds familiar.” She hinted. Eudaimonia laughed in response, shaking her head.

“Of course. I own Sinclair International, the hotel chain.” She answered cheerfully, happy to have met the owner of one of her favourite clothing brands.

Beverly stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, thinking about the name until it finally clicked. Her face lit up.

“I know now! My husband and I stayed on one of your hotels for our honeymoon.” Although she had been happy at the recognition, her face was quickly covered by a shadow at the mention of her husband. “It was lovely.” She added.

Eudaimonia noticed that the owner of Beverly Fashions was anxious. She had been going to therapy for years, so she was able to pick up a couple of things along the way. The woman’s hands trembled, she was sweating, and her eyes drifted between her face and her surroundings constantly, as if she feared being watched.

She placed a hand to her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “Are you okay?”

Almost instantly, Beverly felt the tension leave her body, calm settling deep inside her bones and warmth filling her with comfort. For some reason, the beautiful young woman who had stopped her gave off an aura of calmness. She felt as if she could trust her.

“I…uh…no.” She mumbled, looking away and playing with the edge of her sweater nervously.

The soon to be mother smiled warmly, guiding her to a nearby bench.

“It’s okay, it’s okay to not be fine. Do you want to talk about it?” She offered, taking her hand.

Beverly knew she had to get her memento, but there was something about the woman beside her that made her want to stay. She seemed so young, so untainted by the world. Yet, she knew, that if she was the owner of such a powerful hotel chain, she had to have a strong personality. She needed to vent, she needed to let something out. She trusted the rest of the Losers with her life, but sometimes…the word of a fellow woman was all one needed. Could she truly let herself trust in a stranger who knew nothing about her life or what she had been through?

“It’s just…facing the past is terrifying.” She settled; it didn’t give much away, but it said enough.

She nodded, offering her a small smile. She kept silent, a silent sign for her to keep talking.

“I keep thinking of what could wrong, of what could come back to haunt me. And I don’t want the past to ruin my present, or even my future.”

“It already is, isn’t it? The past is scary because it shows us what we could’ve done and didn’t do. If you’re here to face the past, it means you’re looking for a change. Something better.” Eudaimonia said, looking deep into her eyes.

Even though Beverly had never gotten a chance to truly enjoy the warmth and love of a mother, she felt as if the words and comfort the woman in front of her provided were the closest thing she had ever experienced to it. It felt as if she truly understood.

“And most people think growth and change are euphoric, and happy things. But they’re not. Real change brings a mixture of emotions along. It brings the grief of what you’ve left behind along with the satisfaction at what you’re working to become or what you’ve already become. Facing the past means facing the good and the bad.” She finished, smiling.

“Thank you…” Beverly whispered sadly.

“Besides, I know you can face it. I’ve heard many things about you, Mrs. Marsh. Your designs, they show more than words ever could. You’re strong, and I believe you can do it.” Eudaimonia finally let go of her hands, making a move to stand up from the bench.

“Thank you, Miss Agathynge.” She said, returning the smile. She felt more confident now. Whatever came her way, she would face it with her friends. They would be able to handle it. 

“Anytime. Please, call me Eudaimonia. And, you can bet I’ll be contacting you if I’m ever in need of new clothes.” She joked, winking at her. She laughed, feeling more at ease after talking to the white-haired woman.

“I’ll be looking forward to it.” She answered, standing up and offering her a handshake. She took it and pressed her other hand to hers.

“You can do it.” She stated, letting go and taking a step back. “I’m afraid I have to get going now, but it was a delight meeting you, Mrs. Marsh.”

“Please, Beverly is fine.”

They bid their goodbyes, and Beverly watched her figure as she disappeared amongst the crowd. She never got to ask what she was doing in Derry. She walked to the building where she used to live with her father, feeling a little more confident. She was older now, she was an independent woman, and she was ready to face the man who had loved her and abused her for so many years. It was time to put old things to rest.

From afar, the shape of Robert Gray had observed the entire exchange. He put out his cigarette and smirked.

One down, four more to go.


	26. Silver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Our greatest weakness lies in giving up._  
_ The most certain way to succeed is_  
_ to try just one more time.”_  
_ \- Thomas A. Edison_

* * *

As she walked, she couldn’t help but to let her eyes wander to the windows of each store. She was certain that she wanted to begin buying things for her baby, but she didn’t know whether Robert would want to join her or not. She liked to think he would, based on his personality. He had always been caring, mysterious, protective, funny, charming and easy-going – despite him thinking he wasn’t. She couldn’t help the goofy smile that decorated her face just by thinking of him. With each passing minute of the day, the thought of raising a child with him grew on her.

She didn’t doubt that he would be a magnificent father. And…if she allowed herself to dream a little, a fantastic husband. She glanced at her right hand, focusing on her empty ring finger. She would happily display to the world that she belonged to him as much as he belonged to her.

But, with the beautiful and joyful thoughts of family and marriage, also came the horrible truths. She knew Robert, knew about his past and knew about what he did for a living. She liked to think she knew him well enough, based on the months they spent together. Although she knew they were a good match, she worried it was the effect of the honeymoon phase of every relationship. Winter had already begun to settle, it was clear in the weather, and she wondered how long it would take until snow started falling from the sky. She wondered if their clear chemistry and the way they solved things was just like autumn, it was beautiful until winter came along.

She knew herself well enough, she had been going to therapy for years and it had helped her develop a sense of self-awareness most people could only dream of. So, she was certain that her relationship with Rob would last. But it didn’t depend entirely on her, it took two to make a couple. It had taken two to get her pregnant.

As she walked, she caught sight of something inside an antique store. Secondhand Rose, Secondhand clothes. She stopped and squinted her eyes to try and focus better on the object that had caused her interest. Inside of the store hung a poster of a carnival. It was old but it was perfectly kept inside of a frame.

Entering the store, she smiled at the shopkeeper. She knew the man’s wife. She had seen them many times before, especially when she went out to dine with Rob. A few weeks back, she had helped them find their lost dog – he had been old and blind, poor thing - and they had invited her over for lunch.

“Mr. King! It’s good to see you.” She greeted, walking to the register, where the man sat with a baseball cap on his head.

“Miss Agathynge, likewise. What brings you here on this lovely day?” He asked, standing up and going around the corner to pull her into a hug.

“That…” She began, pointing at the poster. “…caught my interest.”

“Ah, you’ve got quite an eye for old things, don’t you?” He joked, walking to the frame and handing it to her. She laughed, shaking her head.

“Maybe.” She murmured, studying the image.

She recognized the clown on the picture. On her first day in Derry, she had gone to the festival and entered the funhouse, where the clown had attempted to scare her. She read the name featured on the bottom of the page. Pennywise, the dancing clown. She chuckled, remembering how the man had introduced himself. Come to think of it, she had never gone back to the festival after that. She had never seen the clown again either, but she assumed it had to do with the fact that whoever had been playing the role had been wearing makeup. It seemed as if they had kept the clown after all those years.

“Mr. King, just how old is this?” She questioned, turning to look at the man. He scratched the back of his neck, humming as he tried to remember.

“I’m not sure, child. It must be around eighty years old.” He said, gesturing at the frame. “Are you interested in buying it?”

“Not particularly, it’s just…I’ve met this clown.” She replied, placing the poster back.

“I think everyone in town has met that clown, sweetheart.” He commented, taking a seat behind the cash register counter.

She raised an eyebrow at that. She continued to browse the store, looking for anything that she might be interested in purchasing.

“What do you mean?” She encouraged, stealing a glance at the man.

“Ah, ramblings of an old man.” He finished, waving his hand dismissively. She chuckled.

A small wooden turtle made her stop dead on her tracks, and she approached the figurine slowly. Her fingers brushed it gently as she inspected it. It was beautiful. Her mind couldn’t help but to wonder why a turtle had appeared on her visions and called her daughter. She had begun to think she had gone mad, that everything had been a product of her unconscious mind. Of her Id trying to take over, trying to tell her something she couldn’t comprehend. But Rob had understood it, which led her to think she wasn’t as crazy as she thought. She had yet to get answers from him.

The sound of the store’s door opening suddenly brought her out of her reverie. She turned her head slightly to see who had entered. A man with brown hair and beautiful blue eyes stuttered over his words as he tried to tell Mr. King what he wanted to buy. She had to hold back a laugh as Mr. King suggested various items, trying to guess what the man wanted.

“The fucking bike!” He finally exclaimed, pointing at the silver, worn down bicycle on the window’s display.

Mr. King scolded him for the vulgar language and the man apologized, asking the shopkeeper to forget about the past minute and start over. It seemed as if the shopkeeper had recognized the man, asking him if he was the author of some novel she didn’t know. The man had smiled and said he was, asking Mr. King if he wanted him to sign the book. The old man had said there was no need, that he hadn’t liked the ending. When the man asked for the price, she laughed at the old man’s answer. She had tried to hold it back and she barely managed to contain it by covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

At the sound, the man turned to her and his eyes widened slightly. She smiled, grabbing the small turtle and walking to the cash register, standing next to the author.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Denbrough, I couldn’t help it.” She apologized, placing the turtle on the surface and leaning her head back slightly to check on Mr. King as he took the bike of the display. He was struggling with it, but she said nothing, knowing he would insist on doing it on his own.

“It’s fine. It has recently come to my attention _everyone really likes_ my endings.” He jested, picking up the book with his name on it. She read the title out loud.

“The Black Rapids.”

“Did you read it?” He asked, angling the book so she could take a better look.

“I’m afraid not. I tend to read more reports than I do books.” She explained, taking the book from his hand gently.

In the back, Mr. King cursed under his breath as he accidentally dropped something to the ground. Oh, the irony, she thought.

“Reports?” Mr. Denbrough pressed, running a hand through his hair.

“I own a hotel chain; reports are my daily bread.” She joked, inspecting the back of the book for clues about the plot.

She lifted her gaze to study the man further. He was attractive, if not a little too old for her. But there was no denying the muscles that hid underneath the plaid shirt he wore. She noticed that he was staring at her with equal fascination.

“A hotel…” He whispered, still staring at her face. She noticed the glint of attraction that crossed his eyes and smirked at him. “So, you must be the owner of the one that’s being built in town, then?”

“Yes, sir.” She conceded, placing the book back where he had found it. He smiled at her. She noticed that he had stopped stuttering. “So, what’s the old bike for?”

He laughed, stealing a glance at Mr. King, who was still struggling with the bike.

“It used to be mine. Still is, her name is Silver.” He explained, leaning against the counter coolly.

She raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Silver?” Eudaimonia queried curiously.

“I used to be a fan of The Lone Ranger as a kid.” He offered.

“A man who wants to be a hero, I like it.” She flirted playfully, placing a hand on her hip.

She had no intention of seducing him, but she would flirt with him just for fun. She had noticed his attraction to her, and she had clearly noticed how attractive he was. Still, he was no match for the gorgeous man who had been sharing her bed.

The author chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. She noticed the wedding band on his finger when he crossed his arms and pursed her lips. Perhaps she shouldn’t have beguiled him in the first place. She wouldn’t back down, though.

“I didn’t catch your name.” He hinted.

“Eudaimonia Agathynge.” She said, offering her hand for him to shake.

As soon as he took her hand, he felt a wave of calmness wash over him, licking away all the tension and stress. He blinked twice, trying to understand the strangeness of it, but shrugged it off as soon as their hands disconnected.

“Bill Denbrough.” He replied, gifting her a smile.

“I know.” She joked, placing her hand on top of his book. He laughed once again, and turned to look at Mr. King, who had finally freed the bike.

She paid for her wooden turtle and waited for the author to pay for the bike.

“She might not be as fast.” Mr. King warned, putting the money away.

A look of pride crossed Bill Denbrough’s face as he spoke.

“Believe me, she was fast enough to beat the devil.”

She said goodbye to the shopkeeper and followed the author outside. They stood in front of the store, preparing to go their separate ways.

“Mr. Denbrough, it was a pleasure to meet you.” She stated, pocketing the small turtle in her trench coat.

“Please, Bill is just fine.” He pleaded, holding the bike.

“I’ll have to read one of your books now. Hopefully, I’ll like the ending.” She teased, flipping her hair back gently.

He threw his head back in laughter and she joined in. Once they had both calmed down, he offered her his hand.

“Let me know if you like the ending.” He said playfully. She took his hand and shook it.

“I will. See you around, Bill.” She bid her farewell with one last smile and resumed her journey to the pharmacy. 

“See you around.” He replied, watching her walk away.

There had been something familiar about the young beautiful woman, but Bill wasn’t exactly sure what it was. Still, he had a memento to find and devils to defeat.

Sitting from across the street in a café, Robert Gray sipped his cappuccino and held back a growl. How dare he touch his mate? It didn’t matter, the stuttering boy would be dealt with soon.

Two down, three more to go.


	27. Munchausen By Proxy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Courage is resistance to fear, mastery _  
of fear, not absence of fear.”  
\- Mark Twain

* * *

Motherhood had always been a strange concept for her. Her mother had been a wonderful woman. A woman who was nurturing, intelligent, practical, funny and charismatic. They had been close, always trusting each other for everything. There was nothing about Eudaimonia that her mother hadn’t known. She had learned a lot of things from her mother and when she died, she was left with a hole on her chest. Her mother had prepared her for the world as well as her departure from it, but it had not lessened the pain or the intensity with which she missed her.

And here she was, about to begin her own journey to motherhood…and she had no idea what she was doing. She feared doing everything wrong, she feared taking the wrong pills or eating something harmful for her child. She wasn’t married, and she didn’t want to imagine the kind of articles and headlines that would pop up once her pregnancy could no longer be hidden. The fight for equality was far from over, she knew.

She had been reading on her free time about everything she needed to know about being pregnant and parenting. Her virtual library was filled with books about parenting and psychology, knowing she didn’t want to fuck her kid up. She had already scheduled various appointments with her therapist because she needed to be ready emotionally for the next stage. She needed to be certain that she could do it. Becoming a toxic parent was surprisingly easy if she didn’t know herself.

So, she stood, in front of the many products that decorated the aisle meant for pregnancy, wondering which prenatal vitamins to take. She had been investigating on the internet for the past half hour and she still didn’t know which ones she should buy. The owners of the pharmacy were of no help either, standing behind their counters and doing nothing. She cursed under her breath as she placed the bottle she had been reading back on the shelf.

Her hand instinctively went to her stomach, protecting the life that grew inside of her.

“I’m sorry, buddy, I don’t know what I’m doing…” She whispered looking down at her belly, rubbing small circles to calm herself.

She pulled out her phone and kept on doing research. Someone rushed past her, making her turn her head to look for any potential threats.

A skinny man stood in front of the cash register counter, waiting for someone to tend to him. Her eyes widened slightly as she noticed that the owner was snorting cocaine in the back. She bit her hand to refrain from laughing. The old man clearly gave absolutely no fucks.

Returning her attention to her phone, she sighed at the thousands of brand names that claimed they were the best. The man at the counter got his medicine - asthma, she noted - and turned to leave, but in her hopelessness, she was desperate for some help and he seemed like he was an experienced father, so she called out to him.

“Excuse me!” She exclaimed, rushing after him. The man turned to her, and she noticed that he had a kind face. It brought her comfort. “I’m sorry, I know this is strange, but I’m in need of some help.”

He was about to open his mouth to answer when she grinned and took his hand gently to guide him to the aisle she had been previously occupying.

Eddie Kaspbrak was instantly overwhelmed by a feeling of calmness when her skin connected to his. He looked down at their joined hands, inspecting her for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. Other than her hair, she was a completely normal woman.

“Do you, by any chance, remember the prenatal vitamins your wife used when she was pregnant?” She asked, supposing he was married…and had children. If he didn’t, it would be quite an awkward situation to get out of. It didn’t matter, she trusted her social skills to help her.

He laughed softly at her words, shaking his head.

“Well…I don’t have kids, but I do know a thing or two about medicine.” He answered, letting go of her hand and inspecting the bottles.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume…” She began nervously.

“It’s okay. Must be the age, huh?” He joked, reading the label of one of the bottles.

“I’m really desperate. This is my first time and I don’t know what in the bloody hell I’m doing.” She confessed, looking over his shoulder at the bottle he held. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s okay, if I was in your position, I’d also be looking for the very best.” He replied, smiling at her. “My mother knew so much about medicine and health that you’d think she was a doctor.”

“Really? And are you a doctor?” She asked wishfully.

He laughed once again, finally settling for one of the bottles and handing it to her. He pointed at the ingredients and explained why it would be the most helpful, especially if it was her first baby.

“But to answer your question: no, I’m not. I learned from my mother.” He explained, offering her a kind smile.

“Thank you…uh…” She trailed off, not quite sure of whether she had asked for his name or not. In her panic, she hadn’t remembered to.

“Eddie.” He stated, helping her out of her misery. She smiled gratefully, holding the bottle in her hands carefully.

“Eudaimonia.” She offered her hand for him to shake and he took it.

Eddie noticed, once again, the calm that settled over his body. He was constantly riddled with anxiety, so to feel such peace, it was a rare occurrence. He studied her, from the beautiful features of her countenance to her clothes. She was not from around Derry, that much he could tell. Her accent gave it away.

“That’s an exotic name, what does it mean?” He queried, letting go of her hand for the second time that day. He could feel his skin tingling where she had touched him.

“In Greek, Eudaimonia means happiness.” She clarified, noticing that the line for the cash register had finally cleared. “Allow me to buy you something to thank you.”

“Oh, no, no. It’s fine!” He said, lifting his hands up, trying to refuse.

“Please, it’s the least I can do.” She pleaded, walking to the cash register with him trailing behind her begrudgingly.

Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to say no to her. There was something about her, something he didn’t quite recognize, but that it seemed familiar. He wondered if he had seen her somewhere before.

“Pick whatever you want.” She said cheerfully, pointing at the shelf filled with candy. He chuckled, shaking his head. “My treat.”

He grabbed a chocolate bar, remembering how much Richie loved those when they were young and handed it to her.

She grinned, paying for the prenatal vitamins and the chocolate bar. As she waited for the owner of the pharmacy to give her change back, Eddie spoke.

“How far are you?” He asked, signalling to her stomach.

“A couple weeks, but I can’t wait for this baby to come out.” She joked, taking her change and putting it in her wallet. She handed Eddie the chocolate bar.

“Well, I wish you all the luck in the world.” He answered, walking with her to the exit.

“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll need it.”

As soon as she crossed the door, he heard his mother call for him. He froze, his hand on the handle of the door, as he attempted to focus on the words. Eudaimonia placed her hand atop his. Calm settled once again over him and, this time, he was certain it was because of her.

“Are you okay?” The worried tone of her voice reminded her of Richie. He nodded; now sure it was his mother’s voice calling to him.

“Yes, I just forgot something.” He lied, giving her a soft smile.

“Okay.” She said, turning to walk away. “Thank you again for the help. See you around, Eddie.”

As soon as she left, the voice was clearer. Eddie knew something was wrong and he knew he would have to face it. He held onto whatever calmness she had provided remained and prepared himself.

She had put some meters between the pharmacy and her when her phone rang. She pulled it out, checking the caller ID. She couldn’t help the stupid, dopey smile that covered her face when she read Rob’s name. She pressed the accept icon and brought the device to her ear.

“Hey, you.” She greeted, walking to a nearby bench and sitting on it.

“Hello, dove.” He answered, although his voice sounded strained. Worry filled her.

“Everything okay?” She questioned, her brows furrowing.

“Yes, I just…I missed you.” He said. She smiled warmly, thinking about how sweet that was.

“I miss you too. How’s the job coming along?” She fumbled with the small wooden turtle on her pocket.

He paused for a moment, probably looking over something and then he answered.

“Hopefully, it’ll be done soon. I’m sorry I had to leave, but it was an emergency case. I’ll be home soon, I promise.”

“You better.” She joked. “I’m getting lonely without you.”

He laughed, the sound filling her with joy.

“Don’t be silly, dove. You’ll be wrapped up in my arms soon.” He stated. She heard ruffling on the other side. She knew their conversation was coming to its end.

“Hey, Rob…” The words got caught up in her throat. She wanted to tell him so bad, she wanted him to know how much he meant to her. But…she couldn’t utter them. She tried to reason it was because they were talking over the phone and she wanted it to be face to face when she said it.

“Yes?” He waited for her to complete her sentence.

“It’s nothing…” She finished, already regretting her decision to stay silent. “Call me when you get the chance.”

“I will, Eudaimonia.” He promised, not hanging up just yet.

“We will see you soon. The baby and I miss you.” She joked half-heartedly as she spotted a group of kids playing near her.

“And I, you. I’ve got to go now.” He said, hanging up the call.

“Rob…I –“ She heard the beep that signalled the call was over and sighed. Perhaps it was for the best.

She entered a nearby coffee shop and ordered some tea. The weather was becoming increasingly cold and she didn’t want to get sick. As she sipped her tea, she asked herself what his case was. He had never left in such a hurry, so she assumed it was a high-profile client. Still, it didn’t take away the fact that she missed him. She had been back for only a day, and she had barely seen him. They had spent most of that time getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies and talking about the child, but she missed simply spending time with him. Even something as dull as watching a movie with him would help.

She began walking through the streets once again, without a destination in mind. She was done with her tasks for the day, so she had nothing left to do but entertain herself somehow.

Robert Gray leaned against the window display of the pharmacy she had been in. He put out his cigarette and sighed, crushing it with the bottom of his shoe. He couldn’t bring himself to face her, not after his breakdown. He was a monster, there was no other way to put it. And so, he fixed his expensive looking coat and ran a hand through his hair. He entered the store, flashing a charming smile at the woman that looked at him and forcing her to forget him with a flick of his wrist.

Three down, two more to go.


	28. ...My Heart Burns There, Too

_“Happiness is not something you achieve. It’s not _  
_ something you do or someplace you get to. Happiness _  
_ is something you inhabit.”_  
_ \- Mark Manson_

* * *

Her feet had taken control over the rest of her body, as she moved through town on autopilot, her mind somewhere else. She considered putting on her headphones, listening to music as she walked, but decided against it when she heard the laughter of children in the background.

It was funny how, before ever setting foot in Derry, she had never taken much notice of kids. To her, kids just were. They played, they went to school and learned, they bathed in the innocence of youth until they simply grew up and left it all behind. She had understood mothers on the supermarket when their toddlers were throwing tantrums, she had laughed at the jokes of some of her associates’ kids. Kids simply were. In them, there was a strength you could never hope to find in adults. If you told an adult to solve an impossible puzzle, they would eventually give up. But kids did not, they kept on trying and trying until they either solved it somehow or someone stopped them. It was the pure and raw determination in their small bodies that made them so interesting.

Now, with a child inside of her womb, she observed kids differently. She noticed their small feet and hands, their cute voices and the happiness that emanated from their tiny bodies as they played outside. How would her own child look like? Would it be a girl or a boy? Would the baby inherit her hair or his? Her eyes or his eyes? She hoped the kid would look like him. Rob was a beautiful man, there was no doubt about it.

She constantly found herself thinking of him. Of his tall, muscular body. Of his cute smile and aquamarine eyes that could fill her with lust or curiosity. His big hands and feet, only a hint to what hid beneath those clothes of his. His sharp jaw. She chuckled at her own thoughts, wondering what he would think of her imagining every way in which she could have her wicked way with him. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she had ever known.

While her body was on autopilot, she noticed that the amount of kids roaming the streets increased. She looked around, searching for the reason why, and realized she was right in front of the school. She stole a glance at the watch on her wrist. School was over.

She barely registered the sound of a door opening suddenly or the body that crashed into her, throwing her to the ground with something heavy on top of her. She opened her eyes, groaning in pain at the weight smothering her. She lifted her head to stare into the eyes of a former worker of hers. She could never forget his face, knowing she had tried to take him into bed with her a few years back, not really caring about the fact that he was around 15 years older than her. He was on top of her, one arm on each side of her head, caging her underneath him.

He was still as handsome as the day she had met him. His brow furrowed as he stared at her, probably working on recognizing her.

“Eudaimonia Agathynge?” He asked, lifting himself from her and dusting his clothes. She nodded, still laying flat on her arse on the ground. “Sorry, I didn’t see where I was going.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I love getting tackled to the ground by attractive men.” She joked as he helped her stand up. “Fancy seeing you here.” She commented, fixing her hair from the mess it had become after falling.

He laughed, the sound rich and smooth. “I heard you were building here in Derry, but I wasn’t sure whether it was true or not.”

“Oh? Is it because I didn’t hire you to design the building?” She teased, smoothing down her trench coat.

He didn’t answer her, probably because he was looking back at the school where he had come from. He had been inside of it. And exited it…in a rush? She raised an eyebrow, not quite certain of what had happened for him to just crash into her the way he had.

“Ben?” She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder in a friendly manner.

Calmness washed over him instantaneously, pulling his worries away like the ebb and flow of the ocean. It was almost enough to make him forget the fact that he had just come face to face with the creature he had returned to kill. He couldn’t forget the image of Beverly’s young self on fire, and much less, the clown yelling at him to kiss him. It brought horrible memories and insecurities from the child he had once been. Yet, as soon as she touched him, they were reduced to nothing but a hum in the back of his mind.

“Sorry, I was…” He trailed off, returning his attention to her. His breath hitched at the sight of her.

Of course, he remembered Eudaimonia Agathynge. They had met a few years back, when her father hired him to design a hotel. You would have to be blind not to notice just how breathtakingly beautiful she was. She had been young, sculpted, and drop-dead gorgeous. She had flirted with him, tried to take him into her bed, but he had refused.

Her face was not round enough, but more defined. Her hair had not been winter fire, but rather winter snow. Her eyes had not been the shade of eucalyptus leaves, but the colour of amber and onyx mixed into one. No matter how beautiful she had been, she had not been the one woman he desired with both his heart and body.

“Are you alright?” She pressed, letting go of him and grabbing his face to inspect him for any wounds.

He couldn’t help but to be drawn to her. It was different from the last time he had seen her. He didn’t desire her, but there was something familiar about her independently from what he already knew. It was the energy surrounding her, the way her skin felt.

“Yes, I am. Sorry for crashing into you.” He apologized, gently removing her hands from his face.

She laughed, shaking her head. “It’s fine. But I am curious, what were you doing inside of the school?”

He looked like a deer caught in headlights, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find a satisfying answer.

“I used to live here. Call it nostalgia.” He explained vaguely, scratching the back of his neck.

“So, here, lived the woman who prevented us from ever being together.” She teased once again, enjoying the blush that covered his face. “Did you ever marry her?”

At that, his face fell. “Not yet. It’s…uh…complicated.”

She signalled for him to follow her to the stairs, where she took a seat, watching the people pass by. He sat down next to her, stealing a glance at the door in case anything threatened to pop out of nowhere. He watched as she sipped whatever was left of her tea. He felt embarrassment creep up on him as he realized she had spilled most of the contents to the floor when they fell.

“Go on, tell me everything.” She coaxed, staring into space.

He wondered whether he could trust her, since she had once tried to seduce him. But he decided to give her a chance, based on the concerned tone of her voice. He had always been good at understanding people in the emotional sense.

“She’s married. God, she’s been married for a long time and I’m still here, waiting for her to see me. And now, for the first time, she sees me. But I’m still overshadowed by all the men who are greater than I am.” He yakked; frustration evident in his voice.

“I understand.” She said, indicating that she was still listening.

“And, I am aware that this is the only chance I’m ever going to get to tell her how I feel, but…what if she doesn’t feel the same way? I’m scared that she will reject me and choose someone else over me, like she did when we were kids.”

She nodded, listening to every word that came out of his mouth. He turned to her, inspecting her face for any reactions, and found none.

“Do it.” She simply said, looking at him with a glint of determination in her eyes.

“Do what? Tell her? Are you insane?” He asked, shaking his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you crazy.”

She cackled, wiping the tears that fell from her eyes with the back of her hand.

“There’s something beautiful about women, mate. We’re either interested in you or we’re not. And, right now, I could list you all the reasons why and explain how attraction works. But for the sake of skipping the Ted Talk, I’ll make it short.” She began.

“Okay.”

“You need to polarize her. Tell her how you feel, because that displays vulnerability. Few men allow themselves to be truly vulnerable, that’s fake confidence. If you tell her how you feel, she’ll know whether she likes you or not. She’ll either be receptive or she won’t. And then, you won’t spend the rest of your life wondering what could’ve been. Rejection is a blessing in disguise, because it removes the people who are not meant to be with you from your life.”

“But what if she doesn’t like me back? What if she doesn’t love me back?” He questioned, desperation lacing his words.

“Why are you making that choice for her? Tell her and let her decide.” She chastised, finishing her tea and placing it on the ground beside her.

He stayed silent for a moment, thinking over her words. No matter how much he tried to argue, she was right. He couldn’t keep living with the “what ifs” drowning him. If she rejected him, he would have to mourn what could’ve been and move on. He would have to build himself back up and see it as a something positive.

“That’s what life does. It rewards you with positive and negative experiences. It’s giving you gifts every day so that you can forge a path for yourself, and experience the love, the thrills, the pain, and the happiness it can give. So, tell me, Ben, are you going to accept them?” She asked, placing her hand on his knee and smiling warmly at him.

He smiled back, nodding.

“Thank you.” He voiced, placing his hand on top of hers.

Calmness and confidence overtook him, and he stood up with newly found determination. He jokingly placed his hands on his hips in a superhero manner.

“I feel like I can now take over the world.” He stated, grinning as he heard her laugh.

She mimicked his movements, standing up next to him with an equally silly pose.

“And I’m sure you will, Ben.” She said proudly, kneeling to pick up her empty cup and throw it in a nearby trash can.

He followed her to the trash can and prepared to say goodbye. He had to return to the hotel and let the others know that he had his memento. He had no time to waste, despite how much he enjoyed his chat with the young heiress.

“I have to go but thank you for the motivational talk.” He said, hugging her.

She returned the hug.

“Do not spend the rest of your life wondering. Do, and make sure you do well.” She whispered.

“I will. I’ll probably see you again. So, see you later?” He asked, his voice clouded with excitement.

“See you later.”

He left her standing in front of the school with her hands in her pockets. She chuckled to herself and made her way to the park, thinking that she wanted some time to herself.

If she had paid attention, she would’ve been able to hear Robert’s roar of anger echoing through the school’s walls. With each interaction they had with her, he lost his patience. He was nearing his breaking point, and he wanted to tear each of them apart. Especially those who had been attracted to her.

Four down, only one remained.


	29. Trashmouth, The Comedian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all ain't ready for this shit.  
Enjoy.

_“The secret source of humour is not joy _  
_but sorrow; there is no humour in Heaven.”_  
_ \- Mark Twain_

* * *

Her stroll through the park had proven uneventful. She had watched the kids play and the mothers with their toddlers talking. She had joined in on the talk, asking them for advice and they had provided some amazing wisdom on how to take care of her baby. They had placed their hands on her still flat belly and told her that motherhood would be the best thing to ever happen to her. Without having ever experienced motherhood, she had nothing to say but thank you. Still, she had played with the toddlers’ chubby feet and made funny faces at them.

She had walked to a nearby bakery and bought herself some lunch, only to return to the park with her sandwich in hand. She would’ve liked to make her own lunch, but she didn’t want to go back to an empty home. Rob wasn’t there to greet her with open arms and a dashing smile. So, what was the point of going home when her home was not the place but the man?

Her sandwich was almost dropped to the ground when she noticed someone. She knew she was gaping, but she couldn’t help it. She felt like a little girl who had just seen her favourite pop star and there was no way she would be able to hold back the squeal that was trapped inside of her chest. She blinked twice to make sure she wasn’t imagining things and grinned stupidly when she realized she wasn’t, in fact, imagining her favourite stand up comedian of all time standing 10 feet away from her.

She vacuumed what was left of her sandwich, almost choking in the process, and walked to him, trying to conceal her excitement.

“Richie Tozier?” She asked, even though her voice sounded ten times higher than it was. He turned to look at her, his glasses making his eyes look bigger than they truly were. He wore a black bomber jacket and a yellow shirt underneath.

“Hi!” He greeted cheerfully, waving at her. Unable to repress it, she let out a giggle.

“I am so sorry for disturbing you, but I am a huge fan of your comedy.” She explained, forcing herself to calm down. “I’ve gone to pretty much every comedy special of yours.”

He laughed, the sound making her happy. She had just made the greatest comedian alive laugh! She was so excited that she was practically bouncing on her feet.

“Well, I’ll be damned. My memory is so bad that I just recently remembered where I grew up, can you believe that?” He joked, pulling his hands from his pockets and gesturing at the park. “So, I’m sorry if I can’t recall your face.”

“It’s absolutely fine! I wouldn’t expect you to, but I was wondering if I could get a picture with you?” She voiced nervously, reaching for her phone.

He nodded his approval and posed with her for the picture. She smiled, noticing in the photo that she had not been able to hide her excitement or the fact that she was fangirling harder than she ever had in her entire life. And she had met countless artists. His comedy had helped her through her mother’s death, making her forget about the pain, even if it was only for a little while. They snapped a couple of pictures, a few of them with silly faces.

“Thank you so much!” She exclaimed, scrolling through the photos and showing him.

“I’m getting old…” He pointed out, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I should start planning for retirement, that is, if I don’t die today.”

She laughed, completely unaware of the truth that laced his words. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got a couple decades left.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. He noticed, then, how exotic she was. She was beautiful, like one of those modern and controversial paintings you would find on contemporary museums.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name.” He hinted.

“Eudaimonia Agathynge.” She answered, offering her hand for him to shake.

When he took it, he was immediately drowned by a sense of calm. Every fear, every doubt, every question; it was all washed away by the warmth her skin provided.

“What the fuck?” He whispered, not letting go of her hand and turning her arm slightly so he could inspect it.

Never in his life had he felt such relief or peace, and he was certain it had been because of her. He had long stopped questioning the weird shit that happened to him, knowing that the fucking clown was still alive. But she had felt different, familiar, somehow. She felt like the best memories he had shared with his friends during summer. She felt like a nice dip in the pool on a hot day. Like a mug of hot coffee on a snowy day. She felt like the little things that made life better.

She raised an eyebrow at his actions, thinking it was part of some kind of joke.

“You look familiar.” He bluntly stated, letting go of her hand gently, trying not to make things weirder. “I know I haven’t seen you in my shows, but I’ve seen you somewhere else.”

She chuckled, feeling more at ease. “I’m the owner of Sinclair International, the hotel chain. My photos have been all around social media lately because I’m building here, in Derry.”

He looked unconvinced, but shrugged anyway, smiling at her.

“I’ve been meaning to hire you for a show in one of my events, but I could never get a hold of you.” She commented, pocketing her phone.

“I’m sorry. My manager is shit sometimes. Trust me, I’m not sure how my career is still floating. But I guess it’s like one of those turds on the toilet that refuses to go away when you flush, can’t get rid of me.” He smirked, waving his hand dismissively.

She laughed once again, the sound enveloping him. Making her laugh, it felt good, he noticed. It was different from the times he made a crowd laugh; it was better. He didn’t know why.

“It’s alright. Hey, can I buy you a drink? I’d love to chat with you some more.” She offered happily.

He opened his mouth to answer, but a man shoved a flier in his hands. He gave her an apologetic look as he looked down at the sheet. All colour drained from his face, leaving him a ghostly white that challenged her hair. She looked down at the flier and saw it was an advertisement for the festival. She didn’t question his reaction, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“…yeah, a drink is fine…” He trailed off, looking around him, presumably searching for someone.

She noticed something was wrong. “Are you okay?”

He looked at her, worry covering his face. “Tell you what, why don’t you go buy a drink from that coffee shop right there…” He pointed at the shop. “…and bring it back. I promise I’ll be here when you return.”

She raised an eyebrow at the odd request, but agreed, nonetheless. She left, looking back at him. He took a seat on a bench and stared at the flier. There had been something wrong, something had probably crossed his mind or reminded him something. He had been looking around him in panic, but she couldn’t understand why. She reached the counter, where a barista stood, looking bored.

“Hi, can I please get a…banana smoothie?” She finished, deciding to order something simple, not quite knowing what he liked.

“Sure thing.” The barista answered. “That’ll be $3.99.”

She handed him the money and patiently waited for the smoothie. She noticed a couple laughing in the corner and smiled sadly. She missed Rob.

“Here you go, ma’am.” The young boy said, giving her the smoothie and her change. She thanked him and exited the store.

When she returned, she found Richie Tozier laying on the ground, panting heavily. She placed the smoothie on a nearby bench and hurried over to his side.

“Richie, are you okay?” She quizzed, helping him stand up.

As soon as she touched him, he felt calm. He looked at her big brown doe eyes shielded by the biggest and thickest eyelashes he had ever seen. Panic quickly settler over him with the instinct to protect her from the attack that was surely coming after remembering his younger version’s encounter with the statue.

He knew the fucking clown hadn’t left; he could still hear him laughing in the background. He pulled her behind him with a little more force than he originally intended to, ignoring her protests. He looked around desperately, searching for the damn fucking thing.

“Richie, what the fuck?” She asked, clearly annoyed.

He looked back at her, the glint that covered his eyes shut her up. She frowned, tilting her head to the side, searching for the cause of his strange attitude. She had just met the man and she wondered if his comedy was so good because he was going through some rough shit.

And then, she heard it, a voice she couldn’t quite place but that she recognized.

“Did you miss me, Richie? Cause I missed you.” She looked up at the owner of the voice, her breath hitching when she recognized the clown that sat on the statue’s shoulder with an obscene number of red balloons. The voice was childishly innocent, disturbing. “Play a game with me, would you?”

“Please tell me I’m fucking hallucinating…” She whispered to herself, noticing the costume was the same as the one from the clown at the Funhouse.

“How about Street Fighter? Oh, yes, you like that one, don’t you? Or maybe…Truth or Dare? Oh, you wouldn’t want anyone to know, would you, Richie? You wouldn’t want anyone to know what you’re hiding.”

She felt fear threatening to get a hold of her, but it wasn’t because of the clown. It was because something was off about it, something familiar. Suddenly, the balloons lifted the clown on the air.

“You wouldn’t want anyone to know what you’re hiding.” The clown mocked as he floated down, moving his legs gleefully to lead the way. “I know your secret! Your dirty little secret!”

She heard the music, although she wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from.

The clown continued to sing as it neared the ground. Richie put an arm in front of her protectively as he took a few steps backwards. When the clown finally landed, it started walking towards them. She noticed that his eyes softened when they landed on her, but he returned his attention to the comedian.

“You don’t, Richie?” The clown mocked.

She turned to ask for help, but she noticed that everyone around them was just staring at the clown, doing nothing. She frowned, grabbing the smoothie as a weapon. She knew it wasn’t the most effective weapon, but it would give them time to run if it came to it. The clown was dangerous, that much she realized.

“This isn’t real, this isn’t real.” She heard Richie desperately repeating like a mantra. The clown smiled evilly, simply staring at him.

When the clown started walking towards them, alarms went off in her head and her fight or flight instinct kicked in. She aimed, remembering the times she had played baseball with her father, and threw the banana smoothie at the clown’s head.

As soon as the contents exploded on his face, she grabbed Richie’s hand and made a run for it. She was used to running in heels but running for her life on them was a whole different experience. The roars of anger and confusion the clown emitted where enough to make her skin crawl.

After putting considerable distance between them and the park where the clown had stayed, she finally allowed them to rest. She panted, trying to catch her breath and making a mental note to do more cardio.

“What the fuck was that?” She managed between breaths.

Richie seemed lost, barely looking at her. She felt anger rising, not entirely sure why. She pushed him slightly. “Hey! What the fuck was that?!” She hissed.

“Pennywise.” He whispered.

“Fucking hell…”

Five down, none remained.

Time to go home.


	30. The Loser's Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Walking with a friend in the dark is _   
_ better than walking alone in the light.”_   
_ \- Hellen Keller_

* * *

Wood hit against concrete harshly, the sound echoing through the walls of the hotel they were currently staying at. Covered in small splotches of banana smoothie and panting heavily, entered Richie, anger and fear covering each centimetre of his face. His eyes widened when he realized they were standing right in front of him, confusion evident in the way their brows furrowed at his dishevelled appearance.

“Fuck this fucking shit, I’m getting out of here.” He stated, pushing past them and heading up the stairs.

Beverly reached out to grab his hand and stopped him. They had been close as children, she knew that if she tried, he would tell her what had happened. His head turned rapidly as his muscles tensed underneath her hold.

“Wait! What’s wrong?” She asked, giving Ben a pleading look.

“The fucking clown has grown bolder. He fucking attacked me in broad daylight!” He exclaimed, running his hands through his head in frustration and fixing his glasses.

A voice sounded in the upper floor, notifying them of his presence.

“What do you expect? It sent fucking Bowers after us.” Eddie climbed down the stairs, a bloodstained gauze covering his cheek.

Richie felt the blood drain from his face when he noticed the wound. 

“It is desperate to get rid of us.” Eddie claimed, placing his hand on Richie’s shoulder. “Look at what the fucker did to me!” He pointed at his damaged cheek.

“He has attacked all of us in broad daylight, Richie. He did it to me too.” Ben added, coming to stand beside Beverly.

Beverly let Richie’s hand go, certain that he wouldn’t run away anymore. Richie groaned, resting against the wall and sliding down to sit on the staircase.

“We’re going to fucking die, do you guys realize that? There’s no other way.” He argued, looking at Eddie’s cheek with concern.

“We defeated him once –“ Beverly began.

“Look around you, Bev! He’s gotten to all of us! And I couldn’t give a flying fuck about what you saw in your vision! We’re not winning against Pennywise.” He concluded; his voice clearly defeated.

“What the hell did he do to you for you to be so scared?” Eddie asked, sitting down beside him. “Aren’t I supposed to be the coward?”

Richie let out a humourless chuckle, shaking his head. “What did he do to you guys?”

Ben noticed that he had avoided the question, redirecting it their way. Whatever had happened to him, it had clearly disturbed him. But then again, It had always known how to scare them.

“He…showed me something I didn’t really want to remember.” Ben said.

Everyone turned to look at him, a sad look adorning their features.

“An old, naked lady chased me around my father’s old apartment. I also saw…what I think was his human face.” Beverly told them, wrapping her arms around herself to give some semblance of comfort.

“A leper and my mother.” Eddie summarized, gesturing to his dirty clothes.

“No wonder you smell like your mother’s feet.” Richie teased half-heartedly.

“Fuck you.” He countered, wiping his blood covered hand on Richie’s face. “What did It do to you?”

Richie took a deep breath and stared into space as he narrated.

“I was talking to this white-haired woman, and some guy shoved a flier that announced my funeral to me. The fucking clown attacked both me and the girl. She threw a fucking smoothie at his face and we ran away.” He narrated, chuckling at the last part.

He still couldn’t believe the balls she had had in order to do something like that. But it made sense, because she didn’t really know what she was dealing with. After making sure he was okay, she had taken off, claiming that she needed some space to herself. He had tried to argue against it, claiming that she was safer being around people; but he also realized that It was after him, not her. It was possible that the clown would leave her alone if she wasn’t around him. And so, he had let her go.

“A white-haired woman?” Ben asked, blinking in disbelief.

A look of realization crossed their faces, as they all turned to look at Richie.

“What do you mean a white-haired woman?” Beverly pressed, anxiety rising.

“I just told you my gut-wrenching story and all you fucking noticed is the girl? What the hell guys?” Richie spat, not quite sure where the anger had come from. He supposed it had to do with the fact that someone else had been in danger because of him. He just wanted to go home and drink himself into a coma.

“Richie!” Beverly exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

“Yes! A white-haired girl. She was talking to me when it happened. She had a weird fancy ass name. Euripides or some shit.” He explained, unable to remember the name of the young heiress.

“Eudaimonia Agathynge?” Ben offered; his voice laced with a little bit of fear.

“Yes! Exactly! Wait…how do you know her?” Richie questioned, furrowing his brows.

“I ran into her after my own encounter with It.” Ben whispered.

Beverly and Eddie shared a look.

“I also ran into her.” Eddie spoke, standing up.

“So did I.” Bev whispered, biting her nails nervously.

Richie observed their expressions, the gears in his head turning rapidly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He disputed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “Was she in on this shit?”

Ben shook his head, and they all turned to him, eagerly waiting for him to speak.

“I don’t think so. I knew her before all this, she can’t be in on this. She’s building here, but it still doesn’t explain why she encountered all of us before or after the attacks.” Ben considered, placing a hand on his chin.

“She doesn’t look evil either. Well, she doesn’t feel like the fucking clown does.” Eddie added.

“Did you notice that too?” Bev asked, focusing on Eddie.

Eddie was about to open his mouth when Richie interjected.

“She felt like calmness personified. When she touched me…I swear I have never felt so peaceful in my entire life, and I’ve smoked a shit ton of weed.”

“What if the clown is also after her?” Eddie offered, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t think she had ever seen Pennywise until she encountered him with me. She fucking yelled at me, asking we what the fuck that was.” Richie noted, lifting his head from the wall.

“But there must be a connection. What else do you remember about her?” Beverly tried.

Before anyone could answer her question, Mike and Bill came through the main door. Richie stood and followed the rest of his friends as they approached them. Bill looked shaken up while Mike was just calm. They didn’t close the door, even though the wind howled behind them.

“Bill, there is something we need to discuss.” Beverly started. “And if it also happened to you, then there has to be a connection.”

Bill nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for them to tell him.

“We all encountered a woman before or after It attacked us. We think she has a connection to him somehow.” Ben speculated.

Mike gasped approaching Ben and grabbing him by the shoulders. “A white-haired woman? Eudaimonia?”

Recognition crossed Bill’s face. “Y-Y-Y-ou g-guys too?”

They all voiced their confirmation. Mike had an indescribable expression on his face. A mixture between fear, realization, worry and anger.

“Shit, we need to find her.” Mike stated, letting go of Ben and turning to Bill. “It has been playing with her for months. It turned into a human. He’s been dating her.”

“The fucking thing has a need to fuck?” Richie asked, incredulous. “Well, that’s fucking new. Who knew the clown had a cock?”

“How long has he been toying with her?” Eddie questioned, suddenly. Everyone turned to him, not quite understanding the reason behind his question.

“Why would that fucking matter?” Challenged Richie. Mike ignored Richie.

“Two or three months, why?”

Eddie cursed under his breath, and walked to the bar, pouring himself a drink. “She’s pregnant.”

Silenced ruled over the room, the only sound that could be heard was the door hitting repeatedly against the wall because of the wind.

“Pregnant?” Beverly echoed.

“She was buying prenatal vitamins when I met her. She told me she was only a few weeks into her pregnancy. So, it either means she cheated on him or It somehow impregnated her.” Eddie explained, downing his drink and wincing in pain at the sting it left on his wound.

“Do you think It raped her so she could bear his…kid?” Ben finished, not quite sure what to call the monster’s child.

“No, no. She is in love with the thing. Trust me, I’ve been watching them ever since the beginning. I always knew there was something off about the man.” Mike negated.

“We need to help her. I’m willing to bet she doesn’t even know he’s…a monster.” Beverly whispered the last part, the thought echoing deep in her memory and forcing her to relive the last moments she had spent with her husband.

“If she’s pregnant, which I find extremely weird because she’s human, I don’t think It would hurt her. To hurt her would be to hurt his freak child.” Richie declared.

“S-S-She’s not s-safe either w-way.” Spoke Bill, shaking his head. “We need t-to help her.”

Time slowed down as a skateboard rolled down the stairs, blood floating above it. Then, Mike screamed as Henry Bowers wrestled him to the ground. Richie reacted faster than anyone, grabbing the poker beside the fireplace and impaling the bully in the head.

“Ha! Holy shit…I just…I just killed a man.” Murmured Richie before bending over and throwing up.

The skateboard moved on its own, stopping at Bill’s feet and flipping over, displaying text written in blood.

> _WON’T BE THERE FOR HIM EITHER_

The message didn’t make sense to anyone but Bill, who was instantly gripped with panic.

“That fucker!” He exclaimed, rushing to the door.

“Where are you going?!” Beverly hissed, following him. Bill turned to her, and she instantly noticed the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“It’s the k-k-kid! Some kid I m-m-met! It’s going t-to k-k-k-kill him!” Bill stuttered, leaving in such a hurry no one was able to follow him.

Mike shoved Bower’s corpse off him, standing up with Beverly’s help. He closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. Everyone stood still, unsure of what to do next. Mike opened his eyes, looking at them with a fiery determination.

“We have to go and get Eudaimonia. She’s not safe.” Mike stated, standing straighter.

Everyone began getting ready except for Eddie, who remained beside the bar.

“Once he realizes his queen is gone…he won’t hesitate to throw an army at us.” He said.

“The king will be dead.” Richie mocked.

“Long live the king.” Beverly added, raising her flashlight, imitating the action of a toast.

A god would've been a better description, had they known what awaited them. 


	31. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only_  
_ light can do that. Hate cannot drive out_  
_ hate; only love can do that.”_  
_ \- Martin Luther King Jr._

* * *

She entered her flat, covered with drops of the infamous banana smoothie she had thrown at the clown. Genuinely, she didn’t know how she had managed to build up the courage to attack the clearly dangerous figure, but she was certain it had to with the fact that it had been because Richie, her baby and her had been in danger. She understood, then, the mother’s adrenaline myth.

Somehow, on her walk home, she had been able to calm herself down enough to not scream her head off. Her brain was going at a thousand miles per hour. She had seen the clown before, she recognized the features. From the childish face to the adorable buck teeth. Only, in that moment, they had seemed anything but innocent. She had truly feared for her life and the ones around her. The clown’s actions had been unnatural. There was no way gravity would simply allow someone that big to float with only a handful of balloons. Not only that, but everyone around them had been dancing along to the melody. There had been no band, no speakers.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, Robert walked into the room with nothing but a towel covering his lower body and another towel on his hand as he dried his hair. He flashed her a charming smile and approached her.

“Hello, dove.” He greeted, planting a sweet kiss to her forehead. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, finally at peace in the presence of her lover.

“Hi.” She whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. He noticed the tired hint to her voice and threw the towel he held on a nearby chair. He cupped her face in his hands, squeezing her cheeks together. “I missed you.”

“Is something wrong?” He asked worriedly, although he already knew the answer. On the inside, he felt anxious, not quite certain about how she would react to the fact that she had finally witnessed him in the shape of Pennywise.

She chuckled, looking up at him with so much love in her eyes that he had to resist the monster in his head telling him that he didn’t deserve this. “You would not believe the day I’ve had.”

“Try me, then. Share with me.” He offered gently.

“Put on some clothes first, handsome.” She ordered, playfully slapping his shoulder. He laughed as he walked back to their bedroom.

She watched his figure disappear through the doorway and took off her heels, relieved at the feel of the wood against her soles. Eventually, she wouldn’t be able to wear high heels, so she’d enjoy them as much as she could. She tried to push thoughts of the clown away as best as she could, focusing on the sounds coming from the bedroom as he got dressed.

The lilies that decorated her kitchen island called to her in their wilting state. She frowned, remembering how much she had loved them when Rob gave them to her. She took off her trench coat and folded it on the counter. Taking a seat in front of the lilies, she brought her hands to them, touching the petals as softly as she could. She had been practicing her chlorokinesis abilities, trying to understand how they worked. Time’s arrows went backwards as the plant came back to life slowly, a soft glow adorning it.

“I see you’re getting better at that.” Rob commented as he took a seat next to her and poked the plant playfully. “So, what happened to you?”

“What do you mean getting better at that?” She questioned, frowning.

She noticed Rob shift in discomfort, staring intently at the plant. “You said you had brought a tree back to life, remember?”

She blinked twice and raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you believed me.”

“Of course, I did, dove.” He countered, turning his head to look at her. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because it sounds like I’m absolutely crazy.” She shook her head. “And…you have yet to answer my questions about my visions. You said they made sense to you.”

He reached out to grab a pear from the fruit bowl that normally decorated her kitchen. He bit into it, letting out a soft sigh of pleasure as the taste filled his mouth. He swallowed and looked back at her.

“Let’s make a deal. You tell me what happened to you and I will answer all of your questions.” He said nonchalantly. He was trying to avoid the topic as much as he could, but he knew he would have to answer all her questions at some point. But, based on what she told him about the clown, he would know how to breach the subject properly.

He would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t terrified. It was a different kind of fear, one he had never felt before. The fear of losing her, the fear of her rejecting what he truly was. Her words about monsters loving monsters echoed in his head. Would the fact that she was his equal make her feel better about it? Would it change her perspective? Would it make her stay with him?

“You promise?” She voiced, hope filling her eyes. He smiled at her and nodded.

“I promise.”

“Alright.” She said, pushing the plant away gently and reaching out to grab a banana from the bowl. She didn’t notice the grimace that adorned his face at the sight of the offending fruit. “I finally met my favourite stand up comedian of all time today. The lad was quite strange, but I didn’t put much thought into it.”

He nodded, indicating that he was listening. She peeled her banana and bit into it. Once she swallowed, she spoke again.

“We were talking, and I asked him to have a drink with me, but someone handed him a flier. He was troubled by it, even though it was just an advertisement for the festival. For some reason, he sent me to buy him a drink and when I came back, he was on the floor. I helped him stand up and…that’s when I saw the clown.” She narrated, her expression giving nothing away.

He desperately looked for any signs of any negative emotions in her body, but he couldn’t find any, noticing that she was shielded once again.

“I had seen him before. I went to the festival on my first day here and I met him. But, today, there was something off about him. He was sitting on the statue, mocking Richie and singing about a secret no one else knew, and then he floated down. People didn’t even seem to notice him. Or if they did, they were in a trance, dancing to his song.” She continued, looking at the plant with something he couldn’t place in her eyes.

“And then, what happened?” He asked, his voice sounding more anxious than he had intended.

“He looked at me. I can't explain why but I knew he wouldn’t attack me, but I was certain that he would attack Richie. So, I threw a banana smoothie at him and ran away.” She concluded, finally turning to look at him in the eyes.

“What makes you so sure he wasn’t going to attack you?” He pressed, even though he knew the question was suspicious. She shook her head.

“Maybe it was my bloody imagination, but his gaze softened when he looked at me. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one who recognized him. But the energy around him, however unnatural it felt, it wasn’t threatening towards me. I don’t know how to explain this without sounding like I’m absolutely mad.” She sighed.

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to comfort her and have her keep talking.

“Either way, I knew he was going to attack Richie. But, I swear, the clown wasn’t natural. Movements, the way he _floated_ down, the music. It was like something straight out of a fucked-up fantasy movie.” She rested her head against his chest. “Am I going crazy?”

“No, dove, you’re not.” He finally said after a long minute of silence. “It makes sense, it does.” He emphasized.

“Then, explain it to me.” She begged, lifting her head and holding his clenched fists.

“Eudaimonia, I –“

He was interrupted by the sound of someone banging on the front door. Immediately, he felt the shine that the Losers emanated. He had to repress a snarl as he held her hands with a little more force than necessary. He heard Mike calling to her on the other side of the door, and closed his eyes, preparing himself for the inevitable. He didn’t trust them with her. If they were here, they had figured out what her connection to him was. He was no fool.

He watched helplessly as she stood up to open the door. He knew he would have to enjoy the last seconds he had with her, because there was no way she would ever willingly talk to him after what she was about to witness.

“Mike? What are you doing here?” She asked, coming face to face with the librarian. Much to her surprise, every person she had met today stood behind him. “Is…everything okay?”

“Eudaimonia, we need to get you to safety.” Ben Hanscom spoke. She raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“There’s no time to explain, you have to trust us.” Stated Beverly Marsh as she reached out to grab Eudaimonia’s hand to pull her out of her apartment.

Before she could make contact with her skin, though, the man from Mike’s nightmares materialized behind her, wrapping an arm around her protectively and kissing her head in a sickeningly sweet manner.

“Is everything alright?” He spoke.

They all felt a chill run down their back, fear gripping them tightly, almost choking them. They noticed how she relaxed against his touch and leaned into him. As she smiled at him, Eddie realized that she truly was his queen. If he was there, there was no way they would come out of this alive if they threatened to sever his bond to her.

“I…I don’t know.” She responded, gazing into his eyes with love. Ben could’ve recognized that look anywhere. And when her hand unconsciously landed on top of her stomach protectively, he knew.

There was no room for doubt about her loving him. Richie wondered if she already knew the truth.

“Let her go, you monster!” Cried Mike as he roughly pulled her away from his hold and put her behind him protectively.

“Hey, what the fuck?” Hissed Eudaimonia, freeing herself and struggling as they tried to hold her back.

Beverly turned to her with desperation filled eyes.

“You have to understand he’s not what you think! He’s killed people. Children, little children massacred! The man in front of you isn’t real!” Exclaimed Beverly, trying to keep her still.

Eudaimonia noticed that Rob stood on the doorway looking down, doing nothing. Her struggle died down as she tried to understand why he wasn’t saying anything to defend himself.

And then, she saw it. He lifted his head, a wicked smile stretching his face and making him bleed. She remained silent, the realization of why he had been so at ease with everything that had happened to her hitting her with the force of a truck. His skin slowly tore itself, the blood dripping down and staining his white shirt.

His body started shaking violently, his skin changed into white and red, and his hair turned into flames.

“Real?! I’ll show you real!” The creature in front of her exploded after uttering those words, covering all of them in blood.

Her knees gave up and she fell to the ground, the blood of the man she loved on every inch of her. The tears she refused to spill hung at the corner of her eyes stubbornly.

"Robert…what have you done?"


	32. For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Three things cannot be long _   
_ hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”_   
_ \- Buddha_

* * *

Her feet had dragged her to the bathroom, her hands had washed the blood off her skin, her head had remained high, her eyes had been unfocused, he ears had long stopped listening to the sound of voices talking to her, her throat hurt from the knot that stubbornly refused to leave, and her eyes were puffy from crying in the shower.

She had felt numb through the entire ordeal, letting her body dictate what she did. She knew Mike and the rest of the group waited for her in her living room, staining her white settee with the blood of her child’s father. The white t-shirt she wore contrasted against her black jeans and Vans. She had been staring at her watch, letting the seconds pass by slower than they ever had.

How could she even begin to understand or process what she had witnessed? The sweet, funny and charming man she loved had turned into a clown and exploded before her. Had he done the things they had accused him of? Was she equally guilty for loving him? He wasn’t a monster, he was good, he was kind. But the way his body had changed had been the antithesis to everything she believed about him. Everything she thought she knew. Had she truly known him at all? Had she let a killer into both her heart and body?

She needed answers but she had no idea where he was. Would it even be safe to go looking for him? She tried to convince herself that he would never hurt her, but it became harder to believe it as she recalled the way his skin had torn and given way to the clown she had encountered on the park. The dissonance played with her memories of him. With a heavy heart, she knew that the only people who could provide the answers she needed were the ones waiting for her.

They had attempted to get to her, telling her she was safe now and that nothing would happen to her if she left town. They had urged her to leave immediately, to free herself from his hold while she could. She had simply listened; never uttering a word to deny nor confirm their words.

She walked into her living room, her face completely stoic, giving nothing away. She couldn’t afford to break down, she wouldn’t. They all stood from where they had been sitting, worry etched into their features. She had to keep her emotions in check. They had tried to protect her, but they had broken down the image of what she loved.

“I want answers.” She stated, coming to stand before them. They were positioned in a half moon shape, which gave her a perfect view of their reactions.

“Are you…okay, Eudaimonia?” Asked Ben, his expression softening.

“I’m fine.” She answered in a monotone voice.

“You don’t look fine…” Pointed out Beverly, taking a step closer to her.

“I said I’m fine!” She spat, cringing inwardly at her incapacity to hold her anger back. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again. “I want to know what the fuck is happening.”

They all shared a look, perhaps deciding whether she should know or not. Mike sat down and they all mimicked his action slowly until only her was left standing. She felt surrounded, threatened by the reality they had shoved into her hands.

“Well?” She pressed, crossing her arms on her chest, concealing the grimace that tried to take over her countenance when she noticed the blood underneath her nails.

Mike told her everything, from the time it had all begun to the present. She had managed to keep a serious expression through it all, despite wanting to break down and cry. Each person in the room had contributed to the story and she had learned that every violent thing that ever happened in town could be traced back to Robert.

They called him It. They knew him as Pennywise, the dancing clown.

They had narrated their first and final encounter with him, they had explained to her how they had managed to defeat him 27 years ago. They had handed to her a completely different version of the man she knew, hoping she would be able to pick up the pieces and move on. They expressed their concern towards her pregnancy and the creature that grew inside of her womb. They had suggested to get rid of it. They asked her if she had ever been under his influence and she hadn’t been able to answer, uncertain. She had always felt a certain attraction to him, but it had never felt strange or unnatural. It had just been.

It was hard for her to picture him as something other than her Rob. The way he had always protected her, cared for her, spoiled her, touched her…even the way he looked at her. But their explanation filled in the blanks for some of the missing information she had been searching for.

Now, it made sense that he had not been surprised at the fact that she could bring plants back to life. Now, it made sense when he had claimed that it had been impossible to get her pregnant. Now, the fact that her visions had not worried him or surprised him made sense. Was she like him, then? Was she also…whatever he was? She refused to call him a monster, knowing that there was more to him than what they described. And if he was a monster, then so was she. She had struggled to accept the abilities that she had, but she had been forced to when she faced the truth that his white and red skin had displayed for her.

There was only so many answers they could give her, since they didn’t know everything about him. They understood very little and she felt the same way.

The truth was still hidden to her, and she wanted to hear it from him. If he was a monster, then he would have to convince her. If he was truly as evil as they had described him, then he would have to prove it to her. If he had truly influenced the way she felt for him, then he would have no quarrel killing her and their baby.

“What is he going to do to you?” She questioned tensely.

“Eudaimonia…” Eddie stood, coming to stand before her and placing a hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner. “You need to leave before It returns for you.”

She wouldn’t be able to get past them without a fight. With the information they had given her, she knew where to go looking for him.

So, she nodded, and walked to the front door with them trailing behind her. She turned, giving them one last look, and wished them the best in her mind. If Rob was a monster, then she would bring him down with her. She didn’t know how, and she didn’t know if she could, but she would die trying. She wondered if she was being selfish by not putting the life of her child first.

And then, as soon as she was out of her flat, she shut the door quickly, caging the people who had tried to protect her inside of her home. She pushed against the door, fighting them as they tried to open it. She desperately searched with her eyes for anything that she could use to barricade the door. The halls were empty except for a potted plant.

“The plant…” She whispered as she tried to focus against the physical struggle she was enduring. They screamed for her to open the door, they begged her to not do this.

She had to, there was no other way. Her life was no longer her hotel chain, it had merely become an extension. Her life was Derry, the people that had made her feel welcome, the baby…and the man she loved. Robert was also her life.

She mentally reached out to the plant, smirking triumphantly as it grew with thick roots and vines. The vines wrapped themselves again and again against her door, barely moving as they took the abuse of the group’s attempt to escape. Only when she felt the rough texture of the roots against her back, did she stop pushing against her door.

“Eudaimonia, please don’t do this!” Mike yelled, punching the door. “He is going to kill you! It’s a monster!”

“So am I.” She replied, stepping away from her work and inspecting it as fast as she could. It would only hold them back for so long before they managed to break it open.

She ran down the stairs as fast as she could, making sure to jam the elevator once she reached the lobby of her building. She cursed as she took notice of the raging storm outside; the water that fell mercilessly from the sky. Her heart pounded against her chest, the adrenaline kicked in and she knew she had just crossed the Rubicon. There was no going back now.

Ignoring the cold water that hit her skin, she ran to the abandoned house she had entered with him. 29 Neibolt Street greeted her with the worst part of the storm, as wind blew and howled, and made the cold settle deep inside her body. She was soaking wet, her clothes clinging to her like a second layer of skin.

The yard looked different than it did the first time she had visited. It was bursting with life. The tree was no longer dead, instead it was blooming. The grass wasn’t dry but covered in flowers. The sunflowers that had somehow withstood the passing of time had multiplied. She couldn’t help but to wonder if it had been her doing when she had entered it in the past.

The house, though, remained the same. Unlike the first time she had entered, she was alone. And the structure seemed threatening.

She ran up the stairs and threw the door open, looking for any signs of Rob. When she glanced down, her breath hitched. There was blood on the floor. It wasn’t enough to indicate someone was dying, but there were droplets big enough to signal that whoever had been bleeding was considerably injured.

Each room of the house greeted her with nothing but silence and emptiness. She had paused at the nursery, remembering how she had told him that she was sterile. He had been so loving, so tender back then. Would he still be the same way with her?

Returning to the living room, she felt the sting of tears on her eyes. He wasn’t there and she was alone, with just the memories of their time together to torture her.

“Robert?” She called out, hoping that he’d answer. “Love…please don’t do this to me. Please don’t leave me alone.”

Silence.

“I’m here to understand. I’m here because I don’t want to believe them.” She kept talking even though she received no answer. “Rob…I’m here because…I love you.”

She wondered if it was foolish. The rational part of her screamed at her to get out, to leave town and everything behind. Fuck the hotel, fuck the people, fuck everything. But the emotional part refused to listen, convinced that he would not hurt her; that if they tried to find one, they could come up with a solution together.

She felt a pair of arms wrap around her gently and she closed her eyes as she inhaled the familiar cotton candy and tangerine scent that was so characteristic of him. She turned in his arms to face him and willed herself to maintain a serious face as she gazed into golden eyes.

“I love you.” She echoed.


	33. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Love is the best thing in the world,_  
_ and the thing that lives the longest.”_  
_ \- Henry Van Dyke_

* * *

Only a few seconds had passed after she uttered her confession to him, and then her body had gone limp, overtaken by the shadow of darkness. Having lost consciousness, she felt herself drift between realities, uncertain of whether she was a body or just light.

Darkness and cosmic dust surrounded her as far as she could see, as if she had been inside of the heart of a galaxy, burning and thriving in its own beautiful, chaotic destruction. It was strange, to be within something that created and destroyed at the same time. It was blurred together, death and life, chaos and utopia, love and hate. They were all two sides of the same coin; one could not be without the other.

“Wake up, child. I see you’re like your father, after all. We sure love sleeping.” She recognized the voice of the turtle, and her eyes opened.

She came face to face with the turtle, but it wasn’t as big as it had been the first time. They were the same size, so she assumed it had shrunk. Should she call it he or it? Perhaps he would’ve been more fitting, if the creature claimed to be her father.

“I haven’t shrunk, I’m afraid. You’ve grown.” He explained, coming closer to her. “You’ve finally seen what he is, haven’t you? You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Robert?” She dumbfoundedly asked, her hands coming to rest on naked her stomach protectively.

“Yes, Robert.” The turtle laughed.

“I…I don’t know what he is.” She confessed, looking at the turtle in the eyes.

“Do you think he’s a monster?” He questioned curiously.

“No! He’s…I don’t know what he is.” She trailed off, looking away, unable to withstand the intensity of his gaze. It felt as if she was staring at life itself.

“Yes, you do.” He pressed, waiting for her to understand. She raised an eyebrow and considered his words.

“He is…the man I love.” She hesitated at first, but the last bit of the sentence came out confidently.

“And?”

“He is kind, he is funny, he is charming, he is loving, he is incredibly smart, he is patient, he is attentive, he is good.” She finished, feeling the truth of her words disposing of the doubts that had rooted themselves in her heart.

“There you go.” He proudly encouraged. “That’s my daughter.”

“Am I really your daughter?” She questioned.

“Oh, yes. Did you not believe me the first time?” He responded; amusement clear in his voice.

“It’s quite hard to accept, both biologically and psychologically.” She excused herself, suddenly feeling embarrassed at the fact that she had doubted his words.

The turtle laughed joyfully, shaking his green head. “Well, you are. I created you and put you in his way.”

“Robert’s?”

“He hasn’t told you much, has he?” He came closer to her, barely a few inches away from her naked body.

“He hasn’t told me anything.” She complained.

“Why am I not surprised? My brother was never the best at expressing his feelings.” The turtle shook his head.

She was tired of the cryptic words and vague answers, she needed the truth so that she could decide her next course of action, even though she didn’t what the fuck she’d do.

“I want the truth. Please.” She added, cupping the turtle’s head in her hands and looking into his eyes, desperately trying to convey her need for answers.

“I can only tell you _my_ truth, child. His truth is not mine to reveal.” He warned.

“I know I’ll have to face him once I regain consciousness.” She acknowledged. “I want to be prepared.”

He nodded in understanding, and a bright light enveloped him as he morphed into something else. She assumed it had to be a family thing. When the light diminished, she found herself face to face with a man who shared her looks. He looked like he was in his mid-fifties, but she knew it was an illusion only, meant to make her feel comfortable.

“My brother and I, we were created by the Other in a void that contains and surrounds human reality. We’re the personification of your reality’s absolutes. He is the personification of death, consumption and chaos. And I was the personification of life, love and knowledge.” The man spoke.

“You were?” She asked, taking interest in the fact that he had referred to himself in the past tense.

“Oh, yes. I died, child.” He clarified.

“But, you’re right here.”

“It’s hard to explain. I died but I didn’t. I am neither alive nor dead, I just am. If it doesn’t make sense, don’t worry, you have all the time in the world to figure it out.”

She opened her mouth to ask for clarification but decided against it, opting to trust the man instead. She nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“He always hated me. Although I never received an explanation, I always believed it was because I was inherently good, and he thought he wasn’t. When I…created human reality, he went into it to destroy it, to instil havoc. Instead, he chose to stay for reasons unknown to me. He became one with his beliefs, with what he represented.” He sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “And that’s where you come in. I knew I was going to die, but I also knew I couldn’t leave him alone. My existence always held him back and vice versa. I took it upon myself to create my replacement, another equal for him.”

“That means I’m you?” She asked, unconsciously leaning into the touch of her father.

“Not exactly. You’re a part of me as much as you’re a part of him. You’re one and the same. I created you because my death symbolized a chance at something better, and better stands right before my eyes.” He smiled lovingly. “You possess every ability and power he does, only some of them vary. You are his equal, his partner, his soulmate. You’re the only one, aside from our creator, capable of truly killing him.”

“Are you telling me to kill him? Because I refuse to –“ She was stopped by the sound of rich laughter resonating through the entire space they occupied.

“I’ve made that mistake once, blinded by the fear he so eagerly consumes. On the contrary, Eudaimonia, I want you to help him.” He explained, absentmindedly taking a white lock of her hair between his fingers and toying with it. “He needs you more than ever. I failed to protect my brother, and I’m afraid I’ve bestowed that responsibility upon you. You will accomplish what I failed to do.”

“What?” She whispered, taking in a deep breath. She realized that she didn’t need air. There, amongst cosmic powder, novae and starlight, the realization of what she was, embraced her.

“Love him so much that he has no choice but to love himself. Love him so he sees himself for what he truly is, not what he has led himself to believe. He is fond of you.” He explained.

“The life that grows inside of me…” She hinted.

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked!” He exclaimed, a grin adorning his handsome face. “For once, in the entire history of the Dark Tower, we shall have Balance.”

“The Dark Tower? Balance?” She raised an eyebrow, understanding only a few words within that context.

“In time, you’ll come to understand what the Dark Tower is. But Balance is what your child will personify. A child born from two of the most powerful entities in all realities. He will be as strong as both of you, as beautiful and powerful.” He explained gleefully.

“He…it’s a boy?” She asked, her hand caressing her abdomen lovingly, already thinking of names.

“Just like my brother and you, within the human realm, he will be gendered. Outside of it, however, Balance just is.”

“Is it…I’m trying to find the right words…similar to ‘notan’?”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “What a way to describe your child! But, yes, like ‘notan’.”

She nodded, warmth filling her heart.

“What are we?” She asked, the question awfully vague.

“We are Eternals.”

She felt the pull of consciousness threatening to dispel the vision. Her senses were slowly heightening, each smell, texture and sound starting to come to her attention. She felt a stabbing pain on her side, probably from her unconscious body being on an uncomfortable position. Where would she be when she woke up? Would she be back in her flat, covered by a blanket? Would she be caged? Would she be wrapped up in his arms?

She had a million questions, and she didn’t know which ones would help her deal with Robert. She wanted to know if her human parents were like the man that stood in front of her, neither dead nor alive. She wanted to know if she’d be able to control her abilities fully, or if they only manifested outside of the realm. She wanted to understand every word he meant, to know everything. She wanted to ask if Rob would listen to her. She wanted to ask if there was even a slight possibility of saving everyone. Would she be able to play the role of hero if it came to it? She was selfish, she didn’t want to save the word, she just wanted to save him.

Instead, she settled for something far simpler.

“What’s your name?” Her voice breaking.

Even though the turtle had been incredibly cryptic during his first encounters with her, she had managed to learn things about herself she couldn’t have possibly even dreamt of. He had been as helpful as he could, providing her with bits of information. She couldn’t help but to feel like it was the last time she would ever see him, her father. It felt like he was saying goodbye, and that was the reason he had finally revealed his truth to her. She reached out to grab his hand and interlocked her fingers with his, relishing in the feeling of his warm skin against hers. There was a feeling of belonging, of familiarity that washed over her at the contact.

“Maturin.” He replied, gently placing a kiss to her forehead.

“I’d introduce myself, but you seem to know me better than I do.” She laughed tearfully, not quite ready to part ways with her father.

“Nonsense, child. No one knows you better than yourself. And since you’re my brother as well, no one knows you better than him.” He joked, pulling her close for a hug.

“Will I ever see you again?” Dread settled deep in the pit of her stomach; she didn’t want to leave. Everything, from the way he spoke to the way he acted, it made her feel safe. It reminded her of…Rob.

The juxtaposition of love came to her then. She didn’t love him because she needed him; she needed him because she loved him. It was time to return to her love. It was time to face what terrified her the most.

“Yes, Eudaimonia. I’m not going anywhere, despite what your mind is telling you. I’m a part of you, I’ll always be here. I’m certain my brother can help you find me if you ask him, but it’ll take some persuasion.” Maturin joked, breaking the embrace. The only thing that still held her to her vision was the fact that she held onto his hand for dear life.

“I won’t let you down.” She vowed, finally releasing his hand and watching as everything started to fade.

It didn’t take long for her to recognize the sound of water running, and the texture of something soft beneath her. It was time to go home, and she was certain of one thing.

Home is where the heart is, and her heart belonged to him.


	34. A Clash of Eternals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of the song is You're Somebody Else by Flora Cash.  
Enjoy.

_“I used to advertise my loyalty and_  
_ I don’t believe there is a single person I loved_  
_ that I didn’t eventually betray.”_  
_ \- Albert Camus_

* * *

_I saw the part of you_  
_ That only when you're older you will see too_  
_ You will see too_

* * *

She rose from the surface in which she laid slowly, taking in her surroundings. She was inside of a cave, specifically, in the centre of the cave. She noticed the spikes that jutted from the ground, their sharp tips capable of intimidating the bravest of people. She realized that the place was lit up by something, even though she couldn’t see what it was. She looked up and her breath hitched when she saw three orbs of light floating over her, lighting what resembled the mouth of a creature.

“Rob?” She called out, searching for any trace of him. When she found none, she stood up, determined to find him.

She didn’t even know where to begin, but she’d search every inch of the fucking place if she had to. As she turned around, she came face to face with Pennywise. He was emotionless, simply staring at her and analysing her reaction to him.

“You need to leave.” He uttered in a monotone voice. She frowned, recognizing the aquamarine hue of his eyes. She knew Rob was in there. “Now.”

“No.” She stated, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“No?” He echoed, incredulous. “You pathetic child, did you not hear me? Leave or I will feast upon your flesh!”

The words stung, but she stood her ground. She knew this was the only chance she’d get to help him.

“Do it. If you’re as evil as they make you out to be, then kill me right now. Cut me open, make me bleed and scream, make me beg for mercy.” She countered.

His hand reached out to her, turning into a claw as it neared her face, and then pressed the tip to her cheek, applying just enough pressure to break the skin there and make her bleed. She held her breath.

“Leave while you still can.” He ordered, his eyes flashing golden as he glared at her.

* * *

_I held the better cards_  
_ But every stroke of luck has got to bleed through_  
_ It's got to bleed through_

* * *

“I’m not going anywhere, Rob.” She said, reaching out to touch his cheek. He grabbed her hand mid-air, stopping her from touching him.

“Robert is dead, foolish woman! I am what remains! I am the eater of worlds! I am consumption, I am evil!” He barked, shoving her hand aside.

“Maturin told me the truth.” She spat, wiping the blood from her cheek. She noticed her blood was no longer red, but gold. “Do you really think I will fucking leave?”

The name stirred something inside of him, and he let out a deafening roar. She refused to be intimidated by her equal. Two could play the game of pushing the other to the edge.

“The turtle is dead.” He stated confidently.

“No, he is not. He told me everything.” She dared, taking a step closer to him. “I know I am his daughter; I know I am your equal, I know what I can do, and I will not hesitate to fight you if I have to.”

He laughed, throwing his head back.

“My equal? My equal is dead! Killed by the things he loved most!” He screamed at her, his teeth sharpening.

“I am here, I am your equal.” She tried again, calmly.

“Leave before I kill you.” He hissed in her ear.

“Enough!” She yelled, shoving him back, surprised at the strength she had. “I am tired of this. Tell me the truth, Robert!”

“What truth? What could I possibly say to change your mind about me being a monster?” He spat back; his voice distorted. “Did you not think I would smell your fear? You’re drenched in it! You are terrified of me!”

She saw hurt cross his eyes, and her expression softened.

“I am not afraid of you, idiot! I am afraid of losing you!” She cried, glaring at him.

“Losing me? I was never yours.” Pennywise disputed, morphing into the shape of Robert. “This was nothing but an illusion, a trick to entertain myself with you!”

“Then I was never yours either.” She growled, wanting to get a reaction out of him.

“You belong to me!” He snarled, tearing his own skin apart, golden blood spilling from the gashes. She felt tears rolling down her eyes as he destroyed the face of the man she loved. She wouldn’t cry, she couldn’t show him weakness. Not now.

* * *

_You held the balance of the time_  
_ That only blindly I could read you_  
_ But I could read you_

* * *

“It’s a boy.” She suddenly whispered. The clown’s face could be seen underneath Rob’s torn face. Like a mask torn to pieces but still stuck to the owner’s face.

He stopped, his hands slowly falling to his sides as he stared at her abdomen, probably imagining the life that grew inside of her.

“You’re not safe here. Not with me.” His voice softened, pain etching itself into his face like ink.

“You don’t get to make that decision for me.” She said quickly, the palms of her hands coming to rest on each side of his torn face. Golden blood leaked from the wounds, covering her hands.

“I will be the end of you!” He shot back, trying to pull away. Her hold on his skin tightened, blood travelling down her wrists.

“No, you won’t! Just how much do you hate yourself for you to think that you’ll be my ruin?!”

She let him go, taking a step back.

“I am a monster, Eudaimonia!” He replied, turning his back to her. “I do not deserve love; I do not deserve anything that you’re willing to give me. I will take and take, and you’ll eventually realize that I’m not what you want. I’m the very definition of evil and consumption, do you really think I could ever love you back?”

Before she could respond, he turned back to her, his face completely healed, only the golden dried streaks of blood remained as evidence of what he had been trying to do.

“Dove, I am a monster.” He repeated.

“No, you’re not. Not to me.” She whispered, approaching his figure and pulling him in for a kiss.

The kiss was slow and tentative, as if he was afraid of hurting her.

“You have no way of knowing whether I feel the same way.” He broke away, leaning his forehead to hers. “I could be faking it all.”

“If you were, you wouldn’t have told me to leave.” She explained. “You wouldn’t care if you hurt me or the baby.”

“I am broken, Eudaimonia. I can’t be the man you want me to be.” He lamented, shaking his head.

“I don’t want you to change. I find it concerning that what you think I want and deserve is the best version of you from the start. I want you.” She whispered. “I want you when you’re down, I want you when you’re mad, I want you when you’re upset. I want you when you hate me, and I hate you. And if you think you’re broken, I don’t care if you hand me pieces of yourself at a time.”

* * *

_It's like you told me_  
_ Go forward slowly_  
_ It's not a race to the end_

* * *

“I…”

“I will happily sit there and watch you assemble each one, or give you a hand every now and then, or just hold the glue for you. I don’t want to change you and I don’t want you to change for me. If you want to be happy, you’re going to have to work on yourself, like I have.” She continued, closing her eyes to prepare herself for her next words. “We’re all circumstances we didn’t choose to be. You’re not confused, my love, you’re molten with the worst of you. It’s time to challenge your beliefs, it’s time to start believing you’re something other than a monster. Because you’re not a monster.”

He stayed silent, watching her, considering her words.

“But if you’re not a monster, then you need to tell me what you truly are and what you’ve done.” She voiced, pulling away gently. “You’ve used people’s opinions of you as a mirror for yourself. You’ve allowed what you represent to become who you are. Tell me, my love, what are you?”

He tensed at that, knowing very well that the truth could destroy them. She would leave, take their unborn child with her and hide away. She claimed to not want the best version of him right away, but what if there was no best version? What if he was so rotten inside that there was no way for him to change? Did he even want to change?

* * *

_Well, you look like yourself_  
_ But you're somebody else_  
_ Only it ain't on the surface_  
_ Well, you talk like yourself_  
_ No, I hear someone else though_  
_ Now you're making me nervous_

* * *

He had looked at himself in the mirror many times during their time living together. He didn’t recognize the shadow of his former self, because he had been too happy living as the man who he had pretended to be. But he hadn’t really pretended, had he? Everything, despite his negative thoughts telling him otherwise, had been genuine.

Every time he had laughed, every time he had smiled, every time he had tried something new; he had felt something change, something taking a back seat while the present took place.

And he blamed her.

He blamed her for the need to feel joy, because he knew what the opposite was. He blamed her for his capacity to enjoy human interaction, because he had spent his time on this reality hating them. He blamed her for teaching him about things he could only imagine, because his curiosity had died along with Maturin. He blamed her for making him feel good, because he knew he was capable of more than just evil and destruction. He blamed her for all the beauty he had come to know in his life in the past months. For all his pain, she had loved him unconditionally. And he had done his best at giving back, despite not being at his best.

He realized that he was his best when he was with her. He was his best when he was with her because she made everything good.

* * *

_You were the better part_  
_ Of every bit of beating heart that I had_  
_ Whatever I had_

* * *

Robert had been the best part of himself, and he still was. Could he really challenge all the beliefs he had internalized? There was no other way than to try. But he couldn’t even try until he knew she was safe.

“I’ve done horrible things, dove. I’ve killed people. I’ve torn them apart piece by piece, relished in the way they screamed out in pain. I’ve eaten children, salted their meat with their fear. The Losers, they know the worst side of me. The part of me I’ve been trying to hide from you.” He told her, a knot threatening to form at this throat. “Why do you think I approached you in the first place? I was trying to eat you. I could never access your mind fully, and now we know it’s because of…the turtle. That’s why your visions made sense to me. As time went on, my hunger diminished until it was gone. It took me a while to realize why, but I finally understood that I wasn’t feeding for sustenance. I was feeding my hatred for humanity, for the reality Maturin created. And now, the same children that defeated me once, are back.”

She stayed silent, taking every word in.

“You…” She trailed off, choosing her words carefully.

“I ate a baby, Eudaimonia. And now, you’re carrying my child. What makes you think I can raise a child when I used to eat them?”

“Do you still hate humans?” She asked.

It took him a moment to answer.

* * *

_I finally sat alone_  
_ Pitch black flesh and bone_  
_ Couldn't believe that you were gone_

* * *

“Not all of them.” He replied honestly.

She nodded. “Then, we’ll find a way for you to stop hating them. They’re not all that bad, Rob. They’re capable of love and kindness, just like they are capable of cruelty and disaster. They’re just like you and I.”

“I am the eater of worlds.” He argued, trying to justify the fact that he still struggled with the idea of embracing humanity.

“And I am the creator of worlds, am I not?” She countered. “For every thing you destroy, I will create. For every life I grant, you will take. We’re two sides of the same coin. I’m certain that I’m not all good, either. I was willing to kill for you, and my father knew that.”

His gaze softened and he nodded, although the wasn’t quite sure why. 

* * *

_Well, you look like yourself_  
_ But you're somebody else_  
_ Only it ain't on the surface_  
_ Well, you talk like yourself_  
_ No, I hear someone else though_  
_ Now you're making me nervous_

* * *

“I...love –“ He stopped mid-sentence when he felt the shine that came from the Losers. His body instantly changed to the form of Pennywise. “They’re here.”

“You don’t need to fight them.” She begged.

“You don’t understand, dove. I can only finish this by fighting.” He tried to explain but failed miserably.

“I…” She swallowed, barely able to believe what she was about to say. “I trust you.”

And then, the sound of footsteps.


	35. Denouement of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to give a quick shoutout to Ioannes747 for her help with the information I required for this chapter. You go, girl! Thank you for your support.  
Enjoy.

_“Every man must do two things alone;_  
_ he must do his own believing and his own dying.”_  
_ \- Martin Luther_

* * *

The sound of footsteps grew closer, and she knew she had very little time.

“You need to leave.” He warned, his eyes begging her to listen to him. “Or, at least, you need to hide. I don’t know how you got away from them, but I know they’re furious. I wouldn’t put it past them to hurt you.”

“They won’t hesitate to hurt you either.” She said, reaching out to grab his gloved hand. “Promise me you’ll be okay.”

His eyes softened and he offered her a sad smile, shaking his head. “I’ll do my best.”

“Let me help you.” She pleaded hopelessly. It felt as if she was saying goodbye and that terrified her. “Please.”

“No.” He said sternly, knowing time was running out. He needed to keep her in place if he had any hopes of winning the fight. He couldn’t protect her and fight at the same time. Although he knew she was equally strong and powerful, he also knew she wasn’t aware of everything she could do and that was a disadvantage in battle.

Before she could answer him, he kissed her. For the first time, he allowed himself to touch her in the shape of the worst part of himself. Red against pink. He needed to distract her enough to trap her. She’d be angry, but she’d have to understand. Slowly, he pulled away and gazed into her brown eyes. He hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he saw them, he hoped she would forgive him for what he was about to do.

“Time to float, dove.” He whispered, his deadlights shining through his eyes and trapping her. He held his breath as her eyes rolled to the back of her skull and her body went limp. He pushed her up gently, letting her body float.

He had trapped her inside of his mind, because that was the only place he knew, she wouldn’t be able to escape. Trapping her inside of her own mind would’ve been impossible. She was self-aware enough to break through every wall and illusion. But not his mind. His mind was chaos and evil, pain and death. If he couldn’t escape his own mind, he doubted she’d be able to.

He knew time was up as soon as he saw them walk into the cave. He hid in the shadows, making sure they wouldn’t be able to see her. He’d come out only when he knew it would be a good moment to attack them. For now, he’d enjoy watching her for as long as he could.

The Losers had always shone. They had always been powerful, being able to feel what others could, and seeing things no one else did. They hadn’t been the only ones, and that’s why he primarily fed on children. But they had shined like no child ever had, and that had made them extremely dangerous. Even more so when they had teamed up and became friends. A part of him believed he had brought them together on purpose, fatigue taking its toll on him after so many years of being alone, and a wish for it all to end.

He stole one last glance at her as they began the Ritual of Chüd, the battle of wills, and prepared himself to fight.

He was still death and he would deliver just as promised.

* * *

She couldn’t move, she could barely think as the sound of screaming filled her head painfully. She opened her eyes and watched as the clown took the baby from his mother’s arms, opened wide, teeth appearing and sharpening, and ate it in one bite. She didn’t look away, refusing to back down from the reality of the memories she was presented.

She held her breath as she witnessed a teenager suffocate his baby brother in his crib under the influence of Pennywise. The image changed to the way he had killed the teenager, swarming him in the form of his worst nightmare, bugs. She heard him scream, beg for help and mercy, and then fall to the floor, dead and bloodless.

Fire. Fire was all she could see and screams of pain all she could hear. She saw through the eyes of someone else as the Eternal flew over the burning building in the shape of a bird. She couldn’t feel the pain, but she could see it. Skin burning and blistering, fear choking them far more than smoke ever could.

She repressed a gasp as she watched through the eyes of a boy as his father killed his little brother with a hammer. She watched his little legs move, running away from the monster his father was. The boy ended up in the Barrens, where he saw his diseased sibling. She knew instantly it was Pennywise, and she remained emotionless, observing. It didn’t take long before the boy’s head rolled all the way to her, stopping just by her feet.

The memories kept appearing before her. A boy with a broken spine and his head stuck in the toilet, a man who used to watch birds slitting his wrists and bleeding out in his tub, a girl cut in half, a teenager having his face torn apart by Frankenstein, a girl who trusted him to remove something from her face and having him eat her instead, a man who begged him for help and ended up with his heart eaten, a man who killed his entire family and then shot himself. Everything, everything was either done by or done under the influence of.

She saw through the eyes of It. She saw the Other and Maturin. She understood, finally the role each of them had. Maturin only watched, and It only consumed. The Other was a force beyond the universe, a power beyond all power, the architect of all there was; and the only one capable of killing them aside from each other. She wondered, absentmindedly, if working together, they’d be able to kill the Other but quickly pushed the thought aside.

It took her a while, deeply hypnotised by the memories, to realize she was inside of his mind. She understood, then, why he thought himself a monster. It was hard not giving in to the idea he had of himself, specially after witnessing only a handful of the things he had done. It was hard, realizing that she felt only discomfort at the things he had done, not fear.

It was even harder, realizing she wasn’t so different. She recalled, the blood on her hands, the man underneath her screaming for her to stop, the rush of adrenaline and pleasure at having someone else’s life on her hands.

His mind distorted itself, instead of showing his memories, displaying the one she had tried to repress. Blood, split knuckles, a face no longer recognizable. Hot, bitter blood on her lips and the climax of violence. How could she forgive him for attempting to hurt her? How could she allow him to possess her body without her permission? Instead, she had beaten the faceless man to death. Those responsible for her had disposed of the evidence, cleaned her up and treated her, asked her if she was okay, and left everything to be forgotten by time and deceit. She had taken a life, and she had felt good doing it. Many sleepless nights, she had hated herself for doing it. And on many nights of highs, she had remembered it in the pleasure of control.

So, she understood why he thought himself a monster. She understood why he had trapped her inside of his mind. And it was only because she had been to the darkest, most terrifying parts of herself that she could lift people to the very top.

She wasn’t trapped, she was about to walk out of the darkest part of himself and she’d have no trouble doing it. She loved him; she saw only the good because she had also been evil.

Little by little, she started toying with his memories, pushing the bad away and pulling the good forward. Blood replaced by hot chocolate, screams replaced by songs, darkness replaced by candlelight, cold replaced by the warmth of her embrace, hatred replaced by love, and pain replaced by pleasure.

And then, she regained consciousness, floated down to the floor and watched as a small metal makeshift spear pierced his open mouth.

Fear, for the first time in her life, consumed her. She watched as he coughed up golden blood. Eddie celebrated to his friends, telling them he had hit him. She knew it wouldn’t last long as she caught sight of one of Pennywise’s limbs moving slowly. She had already taken a life, and he had taken many. She wouldn’t let him add another death to his conscience, especially not the one of an innocent. If he was to take a life, it would be hers.

Her body disappeared from where she had been standing, and materialized right in front of Eddie. His eyes widened at her sudden teletransportation, and then, his face was splashed by hot, golden blood.

He heard the shriek of pain that came from Pennywise, the echo shaking the walls of the cave like an earthquake. And then he looked at her. She had a small smile on her lips, a trail of gold leaving the corner of her mouth. She was like It.

It took him a moment to register the spike that had torn a hole through her torso, the head covered in golden, almost luminescent blood. His hands instantly flew to her, trying to stop the bleeding. She coughed, her blood landing on his wrists.

“That’s not going to stop the bleeding, Eddie.” She joked weakly, lifting her hands and pulling his away gently. “Run while you can, I’ll stop him.”

Pennywise pulled the tentacle back, her body still attached to it. He began screaming, a mix between wails of pain and anger. He cradled her body in his arms and pulled the limb away, shrieking as the blood flowed freely now. He sobbed, the pain he felt far too overwhelming. He kept rocking her in his arms, muttering unintelligible words. 

The Losers took the opportunity and ran to take cover inside a small crack inside the cave’s walls. It took them a moment to realize she had sacrificed herself for them.

The king had killed his queen.


	36. Halcyon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“If you live to be a hundred, I want to live a_   
_ hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.”_   
_ \- A. A. Milne_

* * *

He didn’t know for how long he had been sitting there, cradling her soft body against his chest. Heartbreak. It was such a powerful thing, capable of making you believe you would die, but never delivering the relief of death. He had never experienced loss and sadness the way he just had. Not even when Maturin died. Tears had long stopped flowing from his eyes, and he knew crying wouldn’t bring her back. Nothing would. All he could focus on was the hole in the centre of her chest, golden blood no longer pouring out from the wound.

Hurt and sadness would’ve been an understatement at defining what he felt. He felt as if he, the eater of worlds and personification of consumption, was being torn apart from the inside. He felt as if his lungs would explode at any second. He had morphed back into the shape of Robert Gray unconsciously. He held her protectively, hopeful that she’d come back to him. Her life dimmed with every second that passed.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to undo the damage; he was the only being in this reality capable of killing her, and he had done it flawlessly. His eyes burned, but he refused to shed more tears. He felt empty. Pain and anger filled him to the very core. He had never experienced such emotion driven power.

His eyes slowly travelled to her abdomen and he let out a sob, placing his hand on her stomach, trying to feel for the life that had been growing inside of her. His son, his unborn and beautiful son had died along with her because of him. He was a monster and he had killed her. He should’ve let her go; he should’ve never interacted with her. She’d still be alive if she had never met him.

The feeling of loss overwhelmed him as he ran his thumb over the place where their child had been growing. Every sob that shook his body shook hers as well. Her mouth was slightly parted, gold decorating her normally pink lips. Her hair cascaded down his arms, the pureness of her white locks attempting to bring some semblance of consolation to him.

“Stay with me.” He choked out, leaning down and touching his forehead to hers as he rocked her body back and forth. He was in pain so unquestionably agonising, he felt as if he would break. He could hear the Losers, talking and arguing amongst themselves.

She had sacrificed herself for them.

Fury overwhelmed him, eclipsing any other emotion that threatened to come out. The seconds passed and with each one, realization dawned on him. Her aroma lingered on his body; cinnamon so sweet he knew he would never find it any other place again. He had done it. He knew he had killed her. It didn’t matter if he killed the Losers, it wouldn’t bring her back. He had to deal with the pain of losing her. He knew she was forever gone. He knew, from the darkest part of his soul, that he was alone. That he had been alone from the moment his own limb had impaled her chest. He could feel her dried blood on his hand, feel how cold her skin was.

He needed her. He needed her confident attitude, her smart mouth, her humour, her intelligence, her kindness, her love. He let every strength of will go, for he knew what was he was about to do. He allowed every pain filled teardrop to hit the face of her skin.

She would never smile at him again. She would never give birth to their child. She would never sing for him again. She would never sit by him as they watched a movie. She would never joke with him again. He would never be able to hold her again as she cried. He would never be able to make love to her again. He would never be able to see his son grow up. They wouldn’t be able to spend the rest of eternity together.

He caressed her face lovingly and planted a kiss to her forehead. He had to let her go. He would join her soon enough; he’d let the Losers end it once and for all. He’d end it all once and for all. The pain, the lust for blood, the rage. Love, kindness and life. He was broken to the point of no return.

Careful not to cause any more damage than he already had, he gently laid her body against one of the pillars that protected the centre of the cave. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, hiding his pained expression from the world. He had always been afraid of hurting her, and it had come true. After the Losers defeated him the first time, he had come face to face with his worst fear. Not death, not hunger, not loneliness. Himself.

And knowing he had killed her. He had no reason to fight the belief of him being a monster. He’d either kill the Losers and then, himself. Or he’d die trying to kill them. Their shine was brighter than ever, and without his equal to hold him back, he also knew the power of destruction he was capable of unleashing would be unrivalled to anything he had ever done. Love was gone and death had taken its place.

Because the very moment she died, his capability of loving died along with her. 

* * *

Bill tried to calm all of his friends down. They kept arguing, trying to understand what had just happened.

“Everyone, s-shut up!” He exclaimed, digging his hands in his hair in frustration.

They turned to him, silence finally allowing him to think.

“Did you not see her blood? It was golden!” Eddie hissed unexpectedly at Richie, who had been whispering something in his ear.

“What?” Asked Beverly.

Eddie sighed, glaring at Richie and turning to Beverly. “When she…she took the blow for me, the blood that came out of her wasn’t red. It was golden, just like his.”

“You’re telling me she’s like Pennywise?” Ben questioned, incredulous.

“I don’t know, okay? The blow was supposed to be for me, and she took it! Did you not hear the screams of horror that escaped It? He killed her on accident and I’m pretty sure he’s beyond pissed right now!” Eddie yelled, a dark look crossing his face. “If you guys think he was being lenient on us before, I can assure you that we’re definitely going to die now.”

“Maybe that’s how she was able to trap us inside of her apartment.” Said Richie, placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder to calm him down. “It was like a fucking jungle over her door.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. We need to kill It before It kills us.” Beverly shivered.

“The Ritual was clearly bullshit, so now what?” Spat Richie, making Mike flinch at the accusation.

Everyone stayed silent, thinking of a way to win the fight. No matter how slim, anything that was useful against defeating the monster was good enough. They only needed to weaken It to kill It.

“S-S-She loved him, didn’t she?” Asked Billy, bringing their attention to him.

“I think he loved her, as well.” Added Ben.

“Are you fucking crazy? Sure! Now monsters have feelings. I bet Freddie Kruger has a wife and kids at home! Sure, Ben, let’s just all invite the fucking clown over for dinner to talk about our feelings!” Quipped Richie, shaking his head and fixing his glasses.

The Losers started arguing once again, except for Beverly. She shared a look with Ben, knowing they both agreed on his assessment.

“Stop it!” Exclaimed Beverly. “If he didn’t love her, maybe he gave a shit about his kid. This is not our main concern right now!”

They all shut up and looked down, chastised by her glare alone.

“I was able to defeat him.” Eddie chirped in suddenly. “Back at the pharmacy, I choked him. I beat him, made him small.”

“What do you mean?” Questioned Mike, groaning in pain at the sudden ache in his back.

“Billy, do you remember what the turtle told you when we were kids?”

Realization dawned over Bill, as Eddie’s words penetrated the deepest part of his memories. As soon as he remembered the turtle, he understood why Eudaimonia had felt so familiar. She had the same energy as the turtle, the same calming effect.

“We need to m-make him small. A b-battle o-f wills.” Billy said confidently and turned to Mike. “What did they say about him?”

“All living things must abide by the laws of the shape they inhabit.” Mike replied as he finally understood. “If he is in the shape of the clown, we need to shrink him.”

Unbeknownst to them, said clown had finally regained the strength and motivation he needed to resume the fight. His love was gone, there was nothing left to lose but his own life, and even that wouldn’t be too much of a loss, considering his emotional state. As they discussed the details of their plan, he morphed into the terrifying spider he had used at first.

He taunted them as much as he allowed himself to and rejoiced in the fact that they couldn’t find a way to bring him down. He felt all powerful, and he knew it was only a matter of time before one of them slipped enough for him to shove a spiked tentacle through their bodies. He heard them talk amongst themselves, finally noticing that their plan wasn’t working, especially after he had blocked their only way out. He answered their plans, mocking them.

Yet, it wasn’t until Mike yelled at him, that he felt something inside snap.

“You fucking killed her, you monster!”

He stumbled back, shocked at the intensity of the truth carried within those words.

“You’re nothing but a clown!” Exclaimed someone else.

“Sloppy bitch!” Screamed Richie, throwing a rock at him. He narrowly evaded it, glaring at the man.

“Bully!”

“Clown!”

“Murderer!”

“Mummy!”

“Coward!”

“Monster!”

“Evil!”

“Asshole!”

“Monster!”

“Monster!”

The words bounced again and again in his head, feeding his insecurities, feeding the very monster he had managed to contain when he had been by Eudaimonia’s side. He risked a glance at her body, and he felt guilt eating him away.

“You killed her! She was good and you killed her!” Mike’s voice echoed.

He felt himself giving in to the words they used to describe him, believing the definition that they represented. He groaned, trying to silence the thoughts, trying to silence the words that his long-held beliefs screamed at him mercilessly. The Losers had merely detonated the ocean of self-hatred he repressed, wave after wave of guilt and fear hitting him, drowning him in a void he knew there was no crawling back out from.

Before he could even register what was happening, he was on the floor, a few feet away from her body. She still looked beautiful. As the Losers surrounded him, he desperately tried to fight them off but failing as he kept on shrinking and having his tentacles torn from his body.

It didn’t take long until he was smaller than a toddler, deflated and weak as his figure rested against one of the spiked pillars. He tried to fight Bill’s hand as he ripped his heart from his chest. He whined, cried in pain as fear gripped him. He extended his small hands towards them, silently begging for them to give him his heart back. If begging didn’t work, then maybe manipulation would.

“My…look how you’ve grown.” He said, his voice sounding weaker than he expected. He turned his deflated head slightly, stealing one last glance at the woman who had taught him so much about life. He had never been able to tell her that he had experienced the most powerful thing in the world thanks to her.

He watched as they gathered around Billy, and placed their hands over his heart, squeezing slightly. He felt the pang of pain. 

Only death can pay for life.


	37. Yellow Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“But love’s a malady without a cure.”_   
_ \- John Dryden_

* * *

He could see it, the entirety of the consequences his hatred towards humanity had brought. He could see it, as the children he had terrorized in the past held his heart in their hands, the pain and suffering he had caused. In that moment, he knew he deserved the swift and painful death that would surely be delivered as soon as they decided it was the right time to dig their fingers in his still beating heart.

They looked at him, an indecipherable emotion in their eyes. He had never seen nor felt the emotion that their limbic system directed towards him. He didn’t have the right words to define it. He could see the way their eyes travelled to her body, sadness taking a hold of them. He moved his head slightly, giving her one last look. He knew it was over, he wouldn’t wake up from this and restart his whole feeding and terrorizing process again. He wouldn’t wake up to her in his arms.

Beverly looked down at him, pity clearly etched in her eyes. “Do you want to hold her hand before we…?”

He would’ve frowned if he had had the strength to do it. He had never done anything good for them, he had only caused them pain and suffering. Instead, he nodded weakly. He could barely hear how the rest of the Losers argued with her as she let go of his heart, easing some of the pain away. She picked him up as carefully as she could and laid him on the pillar next to Eudaimonia.

“That okay?” She whispered to him. He was amazed at the amount of compassion she was showing for him. Her kindness was strange to him. He didn't deserve it. 

Ben kneeled next to Eudaimonia’s body and gently moved her arm closer to him, just so he could hold her hand as they destroyed what was left of his heart. His love had entered her eternal sleep, and there was nothing he was looking forward to the most than joining her. At last, he would be at peace.

“Yes, thank you.” He replied, coughing up golden blood.

They returned to the rest of the Losers and placed their hands over his heart once again. He closed his eyes, ready to enter the end of his existence in this reality.

As they began to squeeze his rapidly beating heart, he felt the ghost of movement on his small hand. He opened his eyes suddenly and turned to Eudaimonia.

He could barely believe what he was seeing, as the wound on her chest closed, stitching each tendon and muscle and vein back together. It seemed as if he wasn’t the only one to notice, because the sound of Richie’s voice stopped their actions, and the pain, instantly.

“What the fuck?” Whispered Richie, letting go of his heart and approaching Eudaimonia.

They all followed his line of vision and gasped when they realized her body was healing itself. Her hand closed around his and she squeezed softly. Not even the fact that they had stopped crushing his heart had been enough to tear his attention away from her.

She groaned weakly, as her body regained colour and warmth, and struggled to sit up. Immediately, Eddie was by her side, helping her sit. He owed her his life, she had sacrificed herself so he could live, and now, she was impossibly alive. They all let go of his heart but Bill, who still held the beating organ in his hand apprehensively. He knew Bill had the most reasons to hate him, and he wasn’t entirely surprised at the sudden jolt of pain he felt when he dug his fingers to try and keep the organ still. He tried to repress the wheezing that threatened to escape his chest, choosing to focus on the fact that she was okay.

Not once, did she let go of his hand. When she opened her eyes, she was overwhelmed by the image of each Loser staring at her, asking her if she was okay and trying to help her. She didn’t speak. She turned to the small, deflated body next to her and gasped. As if nothing had ever happened to her, she immediately scrambled to his side, cradling his body in her arms.

“What happened to him?” She asked, her voice soft as she looked down at him worriedly.

They all stayed silent, aware that they had been the cause of the clown’s miserable and painful state. She turned to look at them, and her eyes landed on Bill’s hand clutching the heart. She smiled sadly.

“You got him, didn’t you?” She queried, clearly talking to Bill. “How does it feel?”

Bill frowned, loosening his hold on the heart but never letting go.

“Empty.” He spoke hesitantly.

“I’m going to need that back, you know?” She said in a motherlike voice. “He needs it.”

Bill glared at her, enraged at her audacity to ask him to give back the heart his little brother’s killer needed to survive. They had told her everything and yet, she still wanted the monster to live. He brought the heart closer to him, taking a step back.

“He c-can’t live. I can’t a-allow it, not after all the p-pain he’s caused. N-Not after all the p-people he’s killed.” He argued, feeling like a child.

She nodded in understanding.

“What do you want in exchange?” She offered, cradling the clown in her arms like a baby and standing up.

Bill scoffed, incapable of believing she actually thought he was willing to give the heart up. “Do you really think I’ll let him live? He’s a monster!”

“So am I.” She countered; her expression unreadable. With every step she took towards him, he took one back, until he was pressed against the pillar. “What do you want in exchange for the heart?”

He noticed that the clown had not uttered a word through the entire exchange, simply looking at her in wonder. It was hard, Bill thought, finding the kindness or forgiveness in his heart to let the clown live. He was a monster, he had killed so many people, he had terrorized them, he had tortured them, he had killed one of them. He had killed Georgie. He couldn’t forgive him; he couldn’t find it in his own heart to let him live.

“You c-can’t give me anything t-t-that will make me change m-my mind, he has to die.” Bill stated, squeezing the heart.

He noticed then, that her eyes glowed golden, as her hand reached out to grab the heart. Her hand stopped just inches from the organ, her fingers outstretched for him to place it on the palm of her hand.

“I can’t…” He choked, thinking about his baby brother. Or...Stan, bleeding alone in the tub, scared and alone.

“Do you want him back?” She whispered so only Bill could hear.

His eyes widened as he loosened his hold and looked straight into her golden orbs. She looked like a goddess. Unlike the clown, she looked divine and benevolent. He had met her, and the however brief his interaction had been with her, he had connected her to the turtle. He knew she wasn’t going to force him to give her the heart, but he was also aware of the fact that he didn’t know how far she was willing to go to save It.

The question she had thrown his way felt like a trap. He had understood the meaning behind her words, what she offered. If she was as powerful as the turtle or…even It, then it meant she could deliver what she promised.

“Yes…” He whispered back.

“Then you’ll get him back. Just give me the heart. Let me save him.” She begged, her mouth inches away from his. He could just lean in and kiss her. It wouldn’t even have been with a sexual interest, it would have been out of wonder, admiration.

“Do you p-promise?” He asked.

In the back, the Losers tried to hold Mike back, as he begged Bill not to do it. She smiled warmly at him and nodded.

Slowly, almost tentatively, he placed the heart on her outstretched palm. A million thoughts ran through his head. He was certain that he would regret letting the monster live, but he was also certain that he would regret for the rest of his life not taking the only opportunity he had at getting his brother back. His sweet, innocent baby brother.

In the end, his love for his brother was stronger than his hatred for It. He didn’t know if they would kill them afterwards, if it was just deceit. He was far too lost in those golden eyes of her, far too drunk on hope, to really care. The Losers all stayed quiet, not daring to interrupt. None of them had felt the consequences and pain of It’s actions like Bill Denbrough. If he chose to let the clown live, they would have to come to terms with it. They just hoped the killings ended. If she was as powerful as It, then she had the tools she needed to stop him if he went on another murder rampage.

He let it go, watching as she placed the heart back on the clown’s chest gently, whispering sweet nothings. The clown let out a sigh and closed his eyes, feeling how everything healed unhurriedly. Life filled him, little by little. But, as he healed, he also felt fatigue taking a hold of his body. He looked at her, as if asking for permission, and she nodded in response.

She turned to Ben and smiled. “I know this might be too much to ask, but will you please hold him? Just while I do what I have to do.”

Ben gulped, but nodded in response, gently taking the clown from her arms and holding him as carefully as he could. He held a powerful being in his arms – capable of killing him – despite his weakened state. Besides, he wasn’t planning on finding out what would Eudaimonia do to him should he drop her…lover.

“I’m going to need something from him.” She stated softly.

Beverly reached into the vessel and pulled out the charred remains of Georgie’s boat. “Is this enough?”

Eudaimonia took it from her delicately, trying not to ruin the small paper boat any further. “Yes, it’s enough.”

She asked them to step away and placed the token on the floor. She turned to Bill, a sad look on her face.

“He’ll return the same age he was when he died.” She warned. Bill nodded dumbly, not entirely processing what she was saying, his reasoning overshadowed by the hope of seeing his little brother again. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Yes, j-j-just do it, p-please.” He begged, holding back from running to her side. She had asked for space and he’d have to give it.

“Only death can pay for life. My death paid for his.” She explained, kneeling next to the token and placing her hand over it.

She chanted something, her voice barely above a whisper. Light engulfed her figure, blinding them. Her death had not been in vain, and she hoped that bringing Georgie back was enough for them to leave them alone. If not…she’d truly hate to kill them. She understood why Rob had been so determined to end things by fighting.

When the light finally dimmed, enough for them to see, Georgie rested on her arms, alive and breathing. He was sleeping, unencumbered by the rest of the world.

Bill dropped to his knees, sobbing.


	38. Wait For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to enjoy the song I described in the beginning, listen to Fallingforyou by The 1975.  
Enjoy.

_“In the flush of love’s light, we dare be brave. _  
_ And suddenly we see that love costs all we are, and _  
_ will ever be. Yet it is only love which sets us free.”_  
_ \- Maya Angelou_

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the curtains delicately, its last rays of the day lighting the shadows of the warm room. The aroma of cinnamon enveloped the air, filling it with the loving and familiar sense of home. In the background, the fire cracked within the fireplace, providing shelter against the cold weather that came with the arrival of winter. The lyrics from a love song played, the soft melody chasing away the deafening roar of silence.

Robert let out a small groan, trying to block out the light with his forearm. The white duvet slid off his body lightly, letting the warmth of the room caress his naked skin. The fatigue that had taken him into the arms of Morpheus had long left his body, and although slightly weak, he felt good.

As the grogginess of sleep left him, the memories of what had transpired between the Losers and him came back, flooding him with a sense of dread. He remembered it all, specially when his body had not been able to hold onto consciousness any longer and he had drifted off to sleep in the arms of his equal.

He had been ready to accept death; he had been ready to embrace the morbid finality that came with the action of the Losers digging their fingers into his still beating and bleeding heart. He had held onto her cold hand, hoping to find the warmth of life running through her skin. Drunk on lost hope, he had allowed his eyes to focus on her beautiful face. If he had tried to fool himself, he would’ve thought she had simply been sleeping beside him. And in a sick, twisted turn of fate, her hand had closed around his. He would’ve died just as she came back to life.

What happened afterwards, he barely recalled, for he had been far to engrossed in the fact that her beating heart drummed against her chest, and he could feel every heartbeat against his weakened body. He had stared at her in wonder, a million questions running through his confused and tired mind. She had broken free from death’s hold, returned to him. He had barely registered the words she had exchanged with Bill, only truly paying attention as she whispered to him and returned his heart to where it belonged. Between her body and his own.

He could hear her, softly singing to herself and he could barely believe it was real. He had lost her, lost every will to survive, lost himself; yet he was comfortably laying on their bed, covered by a duvet and everything he loved in the world. The sound of her voice, the warmth of her environment, the presence of her essence and energy all around him. Not only was Eudaimonia around, but he felt more like he had in the past. The truest expression of himself. He couldn’t help but to be amazed at the wonders of the skin that covered his body, the patch of hair beneath his navel, like a trail leading to what was hidden from the rest of the world.

He pushed himself up with his elbows, letting the reality he inhabited settle deep within his being. The sweet sound of her voice filled his ears and he couldn’t help but to smile. He allowed himself to enjoy it for a few minutes before sitting up, his naked skin greeted by the fabric’s loosening hold.

Unhurriedly, he dressed in his sleepwear, relishing in the way the material of his clothes brushed against him. Just by looking at the clock, he knew he wouldn’t be leaving the apartment for what remained of the day. He enjoyed being alive, and he had taken it for granted twice now. He decided there wouldn’t be a third time, not when he had her to spend the rest of eternity with.

A glance in the mirror told him everything he needed to know, the ugly scar of where his heart had been torn from his chest reflected proudly on the glass. He sighed, brushing his fingertips against it and grimacing at how tender the skin there was.

He exited the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. He smiled, leaning against the doorframe for support as he watched at the marvel of love personified.

She sang softly, her body moving along with the slow melody, as she decorated whatever pastry she had been baking. Her pure white hair cascaded down her shoulders, decorating her like one would a masterpiece. The oversized shirt she wore clearly indicated the struggle of her baking, stained with cinnamon caramel and dough.

As he tried to get comfortable, she lifted her gaze. A loving smile etched itself into her face and she placed the spoon she had been using to decorate on the counter.

“Hello, sleepyhead.” She teased, walking up to him and kissing his cheek. He nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, taking in her saccharine aroma. “It’s good to see you up and about.”

He chuckled wetly, trying to disguise the tears that had escaped him at the touch of her skin and the knowledge of her beating heart pumping gold through her veins. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her closer.

“How?” He choked out, loosening his hold on her enough for her to look into his eyes. He lost himself in the dark void of her eyes, loving every speckle of gold that ornamented them.

“You’d be surprised at the kind of moves my dear old turtle dad is capable of pulling when I’m in danger of dying.” She answered, giggling. He shook his head, unable to hold back the laugh that escaped him. He would have to thank Maturin the next time he saw him.

“I’m so glad he pulled them, then.” He murmured against her lips.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, her lips brushing against his as she spoke.

“It hurts.” He replied, talking about the scar on his chest. “But I’m so happy you’re here.”

“So am I.” She kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close to her body.

Once they were out of breath, he pulled away, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers.

“What did you do for them to let us go?”

She laughed, rubbing her hands up and down his biceps. “I offered them a deal they couldn’t refuse.”

“What did you offer?” He questioned, closing his eyes as he leaned against her forehead.

She stayed silent for a moment.

“I brought his little brother back. My death paid for his life. Little Georgie is with his big brother now, unaware of everything that has happened.” She explained. “The deal was for him to get his brother back and…for you to stop the killings.”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head.

“I’ll try.” He joked. She laughed, swatting his shoulder playfully. “You do realize that I don’t have to hold up my end of the bargain, right?”

She nodded, understanding the meaning behind his words. They were powerful beings, beyond human comprehension and control. If Rob wanted to keep feeding on human flesh, he could and there would be absolutely no one to stop him but her. Once the Losers left Derry and lived the rest of their lives in peace, they had no control over them, over what they were capable of doing.

“I could’ve killed them, ended it all.” She whispered. “But I think letting them live is a reminder that we are also capable of mercy, not just cruelty. They will all go home, have children, and then return to the Earth when their time comes.”

“They surely wouldn’t have let me live had it not been for you.” He pointed out, caressing her hip.

“Can you blame them?” She countered, smiling playfully. “It’s over, love. Just like them, we will keep on living.”

“Did you allow them to keep their memories?”

“Yes. Let them remember who we are and what we’re willing to do should they ever try and return for vengeance. I can’t give them back all they have lost, but I gave them back the one thing I knew would give them peace.” She conceded.

“I wouldn’t have done the same.” He confessed.

“I know.” She concurred, kissing his jaw. “That’s why I did it.”

He laughed, kissing her. “They’ll be back. Not for vengeance and not all of them, but they’ll be back.”

“Then, we’ll deal with them.” She replied, looking at him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“You mean, you’ll deal with them. I’ve had my fair share of time with those kids, I don’t want any more.” He deflected, rolling his eyes.

She laughed, the sound rich and smooth, echoing through the walls of their home and bringing joy to his heart.

“Very well. I will deal with them.” She agreed. “But it would be an honourable thing for you to truly hold up your end of the bargain.”

She disentangled herself from his arms and took a step back. He scoffed; annoyance clearly displayed on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. She tapped her foot against the wooden floor impatiently, as she waited for him to answer her. He glared at her half-heartedly but relented after a few seconds.

“It is only because I’m no longer feeding my hatred for humanity that I won’t eat humans anymore.” He warned, fighting back a smile. “But I won’t hesitate if I get hungry.”

She laughed, shaking her head, her hair moving along. “We both know that’s not going to happen because you don’t need sustenance. But whatever helps you sleep.”

She turned her back to him and walked back to the counter, resuming her decorating. He followed her, coming to stand behind her and wrapping his arms around her as she cooked. His hands found their own way to her abdomen, caressing the covered skin there.

“Is…?” He hinted, not daring to say the words that plagued his mind.

“The baby is fine, love. Don’t worry.” She answered, chuckling.

The fact that he had killed her engulfed his mind then, reminding him that she had died because of his rage. He would never be able to forgive himself for it.

“Dove, I…” He trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Rob. It wasn’t your fault. I made that decision, and I know the blow wasn’t meant for me. You can’t blame yourself for killing me, because I don’t blame you. It was an accident.” She interjected, her hands skilfully moving the spoon to create patterns.

“But…” He began.

“No. I won’t hear any of it. It wasn’t your fault. The baby is okay and so am I. We’re here and we’re not going anywhere, do you hear me, you big derpy clown?” She argued, turning around and cupping his face in her hands.

“Yes, ma’am.” He conceded, nodding.

“I love you.” She stated, kissing him.

He smiled, knowing that, for the first time in his entire existence, he would be able to say the words and mean them. He finally understood what Maturin meant when he said that love was the strongest force in existence.

“And I love you.”

She kissed him again, melting into his lips. It wasn’t until a proposition crossed her mind that she broke the kiss.

“Be with me forever. Marry me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re stuck with me forever, you know that, right?”

She frowned.

“I’ll marry you.” He whispered against her lips, pushing the tray with the pastries aside. He lifted her and sat her on the counter.

As the sun set and night took its place, the moon was the only witness to their love. Eternal and powerful, love just was and forever would be.


	39. Welcome Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_“Keep your face up towards the sunshine - _   
_ and the shadows will fall behind you.”_   
_ \- Walt Whitman_

* * *

A few months after the return of the eldritch monster that had haunted them for decades, peace had finally settled in. Every member of the Loser’s Club had gotten Stan’s letter, and they had understood the reason behind his suicide. The pain was not gone, and neither were the memories of the trauma they had gone through, but they could finally start living without the weight of fear holding them down. Their life belonged to those who had lost theirs so that they could live.

Beverly’s divorce had been messy, emotionally and economically draining, a headache…and liberating. She had, for the first time in her life, felt like she was free to love and be loved. Eudaimonia’s words had motivated her to face the betrayal of her father, the consequences of the devastating curse of abuse.

Her father had betrayed the very heart of her childhood – her innocence. She had remained silent for so long, not only because she had been afraid of getting hurt, but because she was afraid of losing the only family she ever had. Her father’s abuse had been frightening but being responsible for the destruction of her family was even worse in her battered mind. The belief that it had all been her fault had been so deeply engrained in her mind that she had fostered strong feelings of self-loathing and shame.

She had, although begrudgingly, allowed herself to feel outrage. She had understood that outrage preceded grief. She had released the pain of the past, many of the symptoms had diminished or became manageable. She had a new dignity and a new sense of herself as a valuable and loving person. She had been faced with a new option for the first time in her life – that of no longer feeling or behaving like a victim.

She was pure love and she was going to take care of herself. She was talented and creative, and she would express that. She was safe to love and let love in. She wouldn’t be hurt. She could discern. She would take care of herself. She was worthwhile. The world of terror she had lived in was over. She had woken up. It still hurt, but not as much. And it was finally real.

She had only allowed Ben into her life as more than a friend once she had healed, truly healed from the past so that she could work towards a better future with him. She felt happy, and the engagement ring on her finger had been enough proof to let the entire world know.

Ben had allowed himself to let go of the insecurities that had plagued him as a child, he had built himself back up and turned into the man he knew he deserved to be. He was recognized worldwide for his designs and charisma. He was no longer the shadow of a child who believed he wasn’t worth it. No matter how low he felt, there was a better life for him, a life of self-respect and freedom from guilt, fear and shame. He had moved on from despair to health, and he had supported his fiancée every step of the way.

Excited and ready to move on into the new chapter of their life together, with a baby on the way, they had decided to live as passionately and truthfully as they could. Beverly constantly kept in touch with Eudaimonia and had become a business partner. He still wasn’t sure what they did, but he supported them anyway.

Mike, finally free to do as he pleased, had finally moved to Florida. His passion for books had been rooted in his insatiable hunger to end suffering for any human he could. If he had had the life he had wanted, he wouldn’t be the man he was proud to be. He had realized that life had always been happening for him, not to him. That had been game over, all the pain and the suffering disappeared. He joined the United Nations and travelled all around the world, helping those less fortunate.

And, no matter how hard it was to face the harsh reality of the world, every time he made someone smile, truly smile, he felt happy. Along the way, he had met a woman who was as passionate about helping other people as he was. Even though his seduction abilities weren’t the best, he knew they would end up together. Besides, no one could make him laugh like she could.

He would often be found doodling or writing in his journal, a habit he had picked up so he would never forget what was important to him. The nightmares came back every now and then, but he always forgot about them come morning. He had sworn to never return to Derry, and he planned on keeping his word. The Losers kept in touch, and he always made sure to bring something back for them every time he returned from a trip. Sometimes, he tricked Richie into thinking he had forgotten about his souvenir as payback for making fun of his new vegetarian lifestyle. He planned on saving as much people as he could first, and then the planet.

Eddie had divorced his wife, finally aware of the legacy his mother had bestowed upon him under her need to control and keep him dependent on her. The process had been rough on him, but with the unconditional support from his friends, he had been able to move past it and do what he loved. Making sure everyone was safe.

Although, in the legal battle, he had lost the apartment he had shared with his wife, he hadn’t minded. He had moved in with Richie, in hope of finding himself in the joy of shared childhood experience. They didn’t always get along, and they didn’t always agree on most things, like whose turn it was to do the dishes, but he had developed independency from people trying to control him. He was in control of himself, fear and anxiety had become a part of him, but not all he was.

He would forever be in debt to Eudaimonia for saving him, and he made sure to check in on her once every week. He had been incredibly surprised at the ease in which he had managed to become friends with her. Every day, it got a little bit easier to accept that she was…whatever she was. Besides, she had the best tips on how to keep his plants alive. And, much to his constant frustration, fantastic advice about love.

Richie had struggled for quite some time after the fight. Not only because of the trauma, but because of the realization that had come from it. For years, he had denied his sexuality, had kept it secret from the world. For years, he had been unhappy with himself, barely capable of looking at himself in the mirror because he hated who he was. He had hated his reflection and the truth that it displayed so clearly to him.

Little by little, he had allowed himself to enter the world the LGBTQ+ community provided. He had enjoyed hanging around people who were comfortable in their own skin, who proudly showed the world who they were. He had made incredible friends along the way, friends who inspired him and motivated him to be true to himself. He also found that some of his jokes were better received by the community than by the average audience. He finally let himself enjoy things he wouldn’t have in the past.

After Eddie moved in with him, he was forced to face his sexuality for once and for all, to embrace who he truly was. He would never forget telling Eddie the truth, even about his feelings for him, and have it all been reciprocated. Albeit their relationship was in still in its infancy, he felt good about the future. He loved Eddie and Eddie loved him just as much. Every day, he learned something new about himself. Every day, his partner motivated him to become the best version of himself. It had been reflected in every area of his life, especially in his jokes. He had finally begun writing them, just to please Eddie.

Bill had the hardest time moving on, because he still held a piece of the past with him. After getting his brother back, his marriage had ended. His ex-wife had not been capable of bearing the responsibility nor emotional investment that getting Georgie the life he deserved required. He had been talking to another author, a woman who loved life and nature so much he couldn't help but to be drawn to her. 

A lot had changed and, since Georgie was still a child, he had been able to pick everything up relatively fast. A lot of fake documents had been needed, but it had all worked out in the end. He had spent days explaining everything, as innocently as he could. Georgie got the best education possible and the best entertainment available. He was just as Bill remembered him. Innocent, joyful and a complete force of nature. He didn’t take any second he had with him for granted. Every time he asked him to play, he accepted. It turned out to be a win-win situation, since his baby brother’s imagination inspired him to write new and better endings for his books.

He could never forgive It. He would never forget everything he had gone through because of the clown. But he had allowed himself to accept that it was in the past, and that he had no reason to return to Derry. The town brought too much pain forward. He had sought help, and he had been constantly going to therapy to make it all easier and to know how to raise Georgie right. Still, he would never regret letting the clown live if it meant he got his brother back. Every time the kid smiled at him; he was reminded of everything good.

The road had been and still was hard, but he knew he would be able to keep pushing forward. Writing helped. Spending time with his brother and friends also helped. And since his endings had finally changed, his books all turned out to be bestsellers. He was working on a new movie and he had finished the script in record time. Even if life was hard, it got better. Nothing lasted forever. Not only happiness, but sadness passed, too.

The Losers kept him strong, kept him in line. Whenever he felt down, he reached out. He knew he wasn’t alone and that they would always have his back.

In retrospect, they owed the strong bond of their friendship to the monster that had brought them together. Had it not been for It, they wouldn’t have reconnected. Had it not been for the shared traumatic experiences, they wouldn’t have understood each other so well. Even though they would never forgive the creature, they could thank him for bringing them together.

Bill sat, playing with his brother, and wished the best for future. He hoped they had the confidence to always do their best. He hoped they always knew the meaning of happiness. He hoped the best of their todays were the worst of their tomorrows. He hoped that they always took the road less travelled to greatness. He hoped they changed as many lives as they could, and that they loved in infinite ways. He hoped they owned each moment to the next. He hoped they always stuck together. 

He hoped.


	40. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we begin, I'd like to thank everyone who supported this story by commenting and leaving kudos. It was your support that kept me writing. So I dedicate this story to you, the reader. 
> 
> Enjoy.

_“If you want a happy ending, that _  
_ depends, of course, on where you_  
_ stop your story.”_  
_ \- Orson Welles_

* * *

_5 years later…_

Derry had become one of the most popular haunted towns in the US, attracting various tourists with stories of constant and mysterious disappearances. They got a lot of ghost and myth hunters. The mayor had been delighted with the idea of milking some good out of the bad. It had been quite hard getting past the sensitivities of profiting from the pain and loss of others, and it had required a little bit of involvement from Rob’s influence, but they had succeeded.

The library had been redecorated to look more modern. It had also been granted more information regarding the history of the town, as true as it could be without giving away who truly lurked in the shadows. Much to Eudaimonia’s surprise, the influence Robert had over the town had made many things easier. Although she had struggled with how wrong it had felt at first, after reaping the benefits, she had stopped minding it. She had known there were things she would never be able to understand about him, but she was okay with that. There were things he would never understand about her either.

The town had gotten a makeover. The funds had mainly come from fundraisers and Eudaimonia’s personal bank account, but it had proven to be worth it. The town had been praised for its postcard beauty. The parks, the streets and areas that had long been forgotten by the passing of time had been rebuilt and modernized. With each season, it gained a different kind of allure. Even the festivals attracted a lot of people.

The killings and disappearances had ceased. Rob’s appetite had gone away for good, proving his hypothesis about him not feeding out of need, but out of desire to keep his hatred for humanity alive. The only time he allowed himself to indulge in the pleasure of human flesh was when a criminal roamed the streets.

Even if some of the background information he had provided for Eudaimonia when they had first met had been a lie, he had discovered his liking towards investigation. The lie became truth when he opened a private investigation office. Thanks to his omniscient and omnipotent abilities, there was not a single case he couldn’t solve. People often praised him for a job well done, even if the divorce rate had gone up…

Eudaimonia had moved to Derry and left the main headquarters of her hotel chain in the city. She travelled when the situation called for it, but she mostly stayed in town, working from home or from her hotel. The hotel had been a success, and it was always filled with tourists. Not only had her investment all those years ago made Derry a tourist attraction, but it had motivated other companies to invest and set up new attractions and businesses in town.

One of the streets, in particular, had gotten a fantastic rebuild: 29 Neibolt Street. Eudaimonia had bought all the houses and torn them down so she could build a small park. Not only that, but they had gotten rid of the Well House and built their home over its remains. It was a small modern mansion, and she had Ben Hanscom to thank for the beautiful design.

Her marriage to Robert Gray - the personification of death and consumption, the eater of worlds, and her equal – had been merely symbolic, an exchange of rings and vows. They had promised to always love and protect each other, to keep each other in line, and to always do their best in their relationship. Their marriage had proven to be like the one from a fairy-tale. They had both understood their differences and accepted them, which proved useful given the fact that they rarely ever fought.

And the newest addition to their Eternal family had been both a source of joy and pain alike. They had both educated themselves on how to best raise a baby. She had even forced Rob to go to therapy with her. It had been quite the ride, but it had made their lives easier once their small bundle of joy had been brought into the world, right into the loving arms of his mother and father.

The personification of balance, Adrestien Agathynge, had turned their lives into an adventure as they navigated parenthood together. The baby, much to their surprise, had been an angel. He barely cried, only laughed and smiled at them. Robert had been afraid of hurting the child, and it had taken some time before he felt comfortable holding him. Once he did, however, they were inseparable. Eudaimonia had pouted when she realized that she was no longer the favourite parent. Yet it had been lovely to know Rob had finally learned to love himself as much as he loved his family.

Adrestien had inherited his mothers snow white hair and his father’s aquamarine eyes. There had been no person capable of resisting how divinely beautiful he was, and Eudaimonia knew it would be a problem when he became a teenager. The kid was as gorgeous as his father and her, so it was written in stone that he would make a lot of people fall in love with him. The worst part of it all was that he had already begun charming his way into everyone’s heart. Beverly Marsh’s daughter adored him. They played together whenever she came to visit.

His abilities had begun to show from the moment he was born, enveloped in light. If death followed, he brought life. If life overflowed, he brought death. Robert had been teaching him how to control his abilities, but it was hard to make a 4-year-old listen to the importance of not destroying the balance he had strengthened. Still, they both knew time would do the trick.

As she read through her emails, sitting in a chair in their backyard, she heard the voice of her son calling to her.

“Mummy, look at what papa taught me!” He exclaimed, filled with excitement. She lifted her gaze, smiling at him and watching with curiosity as he formed a ball of light. She clapped, cheering him on.

In the background, Rob looked at his son with pride, happy that he had finally mastered what he had been teaching him. He sneaked up on his son, lifting him and laughing along with the child gleefully as he pretended to be a spaceship. Rob created the illusion of space just for Adrestien, feeling how his heart warmed at the sight of his wonder filled eyes.

She continued to read through her emails, making sure everything was prepared for the gala event next week. She had invited Beverly, Ben, Richie and Eddie. They had all confirmed their assistance. Although she got along with most of the Losers, she knew that those who weren’t attending the event had never been able to accept her friendship. Forgiveness did not come easily, and she understood that.

Rob had caused them far too much pain, so she knew it was extremely hard to move past the trauma. Even those who had the courage to visit still felt uneasy at his presence. Most of the time, he just hung around in the background as she hosted them. She occasionally checked up on those who didn’t visit, making sure to call or text every now and then. Her heart filled with joy knowing they were happy. Bill had gotten married to another author, and Georgie grew up like a normal kid. Mike had also gotten married and had kids, who travelled the world with him. Eddie and Richie were in the process of adopting, a year after their extravagant wedding. Bevery and Ben were already expecting a new family member, a boy.

Rob had proven to be quite the social butterfly, making fast friends with everyone in town. The men often invited him to go out for a drink or to watch a game. Meanwhile, she tried to pretend she wasn't jealous when other women came up to him and flirted. He always turned them down and made sure to remind them he was married. 

Her boy ran to her, throwing himself into her arms and hugging her with all the strength his small body had. She let go of her phone and wrapped her arms around him.

“Are you okay, peanut?” She asked, kissing the top of his white head. He giggled, nuzzling his face into her. She shook her head in amusement, peppering him with kisses. He squealed, trying to free himself from his mother’s hold.

“Mum, stop!” He exclaimed, laughing. She freed him, watching how his messy hair made him look even cuter. Like father, like son, she guessed.

“Go wash up, peanut, it’s almost teatime.” She said sweetly, pinching his cheek. The boy nodded and ran into the house, the sound of his footsteps indicating his rush.

Robert walked to her side, putting an arm around her lovingly. “How are my girls doing?”

She laughed, bringing a hand to her growing stomach and rubbing her thumb over it. “We’re doing just fine, love. But…I do want a kiss.”

He chuckled, lowering himself just enough to place a sweet kiss to her lips. He broke it, an excited and mischievous glint adorning his eyes. He offered her his hand. “Come on.”

She raised her eyebrow questioningly but took it, nonetheless. He pulled her up, making her gasp, and put his arms around her. He pressed a button on her phone and a song started playing through the speakers. She chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck and swaying gently along to the rhythm of the song.

“It won’t be long until he comes back.” She warned, kissing his cheek. He smiled at her wickedly, his hand travelling down her back and grabbing a handful of her derriere. She laughed, smacking his arm playfully.

“Then we better make the most of it.” He replied, kissing her deeply. She moaned into the kiss, her hormones on high alert because of her pregnancy.

They slow danced for a while, until the sound of a disgusted voice interrupted them.

“Ew!” Their son shrieked, covering his face with his hands. They disentangled themselves and laughed.

Rob made a funny face at his son before scooping him up in his arms and tickling him. The boy laughed, content in the protective arms of his father. Eudaimonia approached them, also making funny faces at Adrestien and relishing in the sound of his innocent happiness. Even though they knew he would grow up and become a fine young man, they wanted to enjoy his childhood along with him as much as they could.

Eventually, the time to explain what and who they were would come. There would come a time when he would set out into the world and live through experience. Not only that, but he’d eventually have to pay a visit to other realms. When the time came, they would both be ready to lead him into that journey, and to let him roam free.

Once their son had calmed down from his laughing fit, he looked up with big, aquamarine, doe eyes at his parents, the subtle hint of his manipulation present.

“When is grandpa Maturin going to visit?” He asked, playing nervously with the hem of his striped shirt.

Robert choked. As soon as the boy realized he wasn’t going to get an answer from his father, he turned to his mother and waited for her to speak.

“I’ll ask him, okay? He’s a pretty busy turtle.” She joked, pinching his cheeks once again.

Carefully, Rob lowered his son to the ground and ruffled his hair. She could see the pure adoration in both of their eyes as they stared at each other. She smiled lovingly, knowing that she couldn’t picture a better life. Rob noticed her staring and winked at her, turning to his son.

“Hey, why don’t you go and choose the biscuits?”

Adrestien’s face lit up and he nodded, running back into the house. The sound of cabinets opening and closing filled their kitchen, notifying them of the fact that they didn’t have much time left before the boy began eating as many biscuits as his heart desired.

Rob tilted her chin up with his index finger, bringing her lips close to his and smiling against them.

“I love you.” She whispered.

“I love you.” He echoed.

They may have not won the battles, but they had won the war. And as time’s arrow continued to move forward, every reality would sing for eternity...

...a threnody for death and a hymn for equilibrium.

* * *

* * *

END. 


End file.
